Howard, meanwhile, is busy upstairs, pawing away at a cluster of wires housed just behind one of the panels lining the walls of his room. Thick, tinted goggles cover his eyes, and a pocket screwdriver is stuck firmly between his teeth. The phase of grief and frustration that initially consumed him has almost entirely passed, and he's taken to staving off the rest of his emotions by picking apart Tony's carefully calibrated computer systems at least once or twice a day. (When he's not busy catching up on how far Quantum Physics have come, or watching Dancing With the Stars for the cute broads in tight dresses.)
At first it was-- predictably-- a mess, but now that he's grasped the lifetime's worth of difference between the machines he fused together in dingy, makeshift government basements and the gleaming, overwrought tech of the New and Improved Stark Industries, the pieces scattered before him finally make enough sense to reconfigure without unintentionally killing the power, or sending the building into emergency lockdown.
He draws his hand back to grab the flashlight propped against his heel, jamming it awkwardly in the space between his neck and shoulder so that he can see well enough to reconnect one of the smaller cables to his personal laptop. But as he dips his fingertips back into the wall to fish it out, frost crawls along the skin of his knuckles, and he yanks his arm back in surprise.
"What the...." He mutters, suddenly noticing the sight of his own breath as it escapes his lips. This isn't his fault-- it can't be-- he hasn't even altered anything yet.
Howard pulls the goggles off, tossing them to the floor and shuffling downstairs with a somewhat mild expression. "Anthony -- pal, what the hell did you do?? It's freezing up here!"
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At first it was-- predictably-- a mess, but now that he's grasped the lifetime's worth of difference between the machines he fused together in dingy, makeshift government basements and the gleaming, overwrought tech of the New and Improved Stark Industries, the pieces scattered before him finally make enough sense to reconfigure without unintentionally killing the power, or sending the building into emergency lockdown.
He draws his hand back to grab the flashlight propped against his heel, jamming it awkwardly in the space between his neck and shoulder so that he can see well enough to reconnect one of the smaller cables to his personal laptop. But as he dips his fingertips back into the wall to fish it out, frost crawls along the skin of his knuckles, and he yanks his arm back in surprise.
"What the...." He mutters, suddenly noticing the sight of his own breath as it escapes his lips. This isn't his fault-- it can't be-- he hasn't even altered anything yet.
Howard pulls the goggles off, tossing them to the floor and shuffling downstairs with a somewhat mild expression. "Anthony -- pal, what the hell did you do?? It's freezing up here!"