It was… weird.
Running again, that was. He had started running a lot more since he realized that he was a few steps above the average Stark, just to make sure that he would stay that way. Of course dying had definitely put a damper on his running but now? He didn’t have a reason not to run anymore.
So he had started running again, starting from his Tower and then running until he felt like he was tired, then turning around and running all the way back at a quicker pace as if to tell himself to put up or shut up. His muscles ached, but that was fine. It seemed that even in death the deal kept.
Perhaps that was the only reason why he was alive in the first place.
Maybe he had never really died?
It was an odd concept, but one that was drowned out for the most part by the fact that though he had stopped to take a quick break his headphones were still distracting him.
He wasn’t listening to music, though.
Exactly what he was listening to? He didn’t really feel like explaining.
Watching other people run always made her think she should be running herself. She didn’t, of course, but it made her think she should. Laziness was an indulgence. So she indulged herself, sprawling belly-down on a blanket near the path, watching other people run.
Or, in some cases, not run.
He’d /been/ running. Dampness still stuck his hair to his neck, shirt to his chest. She drew her gaze down the rest of his body, then back up. Headphones. Arc reactor.
Arc reactor?
“Bit risky, just running around the city, with the number of people who want you dead, isn’t it?” she called to Tony Stark.