[ tony puts forth some amount of effort to keep the bandages dry, but occasional splashing and dipping is inevitable. out of the bath, he dries off, slicks back his hair, and shaves. ankle-high boots, breeches, and a loose-fitting olive green tunic chosen, he folds the sleeves up to his elbows on his return to the dining room. maybe the bandages will dry quickly. the mild itching on and off is already...irritating enough.
the dining room is empty of demon-harboring assassins. tony flicks a curious glance to the kitchen's doorway, but stops by the spot he thought the glass and blood might still be covering and picks up his hammer. the table, the pliers, the hammer: all of it cleaned. meticulously. a bit of food and drink neatly left out, too, reminiscent of how he sometimes finds meals here ready for him.
after another glance at the doorway, tony leaves the hammer behind and enters the kitchen proper. ] Didn't know you cooked, [ he observes coolly and leans his hip on the door frame. ]
no subject
the dining room is empty of demon-harboring assassins. tony flicks a curious glance to the kitchen's doorway, but stops by the spot he thought the glass and blood might still be covering and picks up his hammer. the table, the pliers, the hammer: all of it cleaned. meticulously. a bit of food and drink neatly left out, too, reminiscent of how he sometimes finds meals here ready for him.
after another glance at the doorway, tony leaves the hammer behind and enters the kitchen proper. ] Didn't know you cooked, [ he observes coolly and leans his hip on the door frame. ]