fromthebottomofmyreactor:

Tony’s eyes were trained on the man, crossing his own arms over his chest and leaned back a little. His mind working a thousand miles a minute, wondering possible ways he could shut this guy up and the possible outcomes of shutting him up. Was this guy lying? “You know, it’s funny really.” He moved to grab a glass, keeping his eyes on the other. “You making up all this shit about my parents.” He grabbed the scotch and poured a little into his glass. “But you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A laugh. A realistic one, no bitterness about it. It was funny in a way, how calm the conversation had gone. “Anthony. How quaint.” A small smile, and The soldier is resting upon one of the chairs “I worked with your father during my stint with America.” Fingers focused tightly on the drink, eyes narrowing “He never really cared much for you, did he? I could see that by the way your mother was. Your father didn’t even bring you up when he died. Acted as if you never really existed. Oh, and then there’s the ginger one. She reminds me of Maria. So caring, looking after a piece of shit like yourself must be hard.”