meet anthony stane, dirt-poor blacksmith of a small village in the middle of nowhere. nothing beats the things he forges--but could anyone expect any less?
[ au tony stark account--tracking the justablacksmith tag ]
By George, I think he’s got it! A round of applause! |She claps for him, smiling and laughing|
Now if only that generation thing would work in my favor. I’m sure if I told them any of that, they would not believe me. “Mother, you’re reading too many books again!” Or at least that’s what I assume they would say. |her cheeks tinge again and she playfully hits him on the shoulder|Oh hush, you.
Right, Banner’s are probably more fun and have better tea parties anyway. |She hesitates, but links arms with him| Of course, but mind you, I have to back before the clock strikes twelve.
[Anthony fans his hand over his face, his other hand waving in front of him as he shakes his head.] Good Lord, t’was nothing worth applause over— [He stops, however, a grin on his face as he waggles his brows slightly.] —although, I am enjoying yer ‘ttention.
[At the hit to his shoulder, Anthony groans dramatically, tilting his head back in mock-pain.] Y’ wound me, fair lady! Though ‘m sure your runts’d understand someday—th’ great works of Anthony Stane mayhaps strike ‘em dumb at first. They’ll believe y’. Eventually. [He begins to lead Brie along, laughing.] Aye, twelve midnight. ‘ll have y’ back ‘fore th’ crack of it, promise. Even if we’re havin’ a splendid tea party at th’ time.
