BEAUTIFUL FACADE, quentin beck

xi. healing hands

"All right, relax," Happy tells the teenager, trying to simply ease the nerves of Peter, even if only in the slightest of ways. However, his attempt to do so is proven ineffective, as once again, as Peter abruptly slams his fist against the table out of pain, uttering another exclaim. "Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax, Happy. How can I relax when I messed up so bad?" Jolting upwards from his seat at the small table, Peter raises his voice to a lever near a shout, emotion burning bright within his eyes. Taking a few paces away from Happy, he casts his gaze back to the man, continuing to rant. "I trusted Beck. Right? I thought he was my friend, so I gave him the only thing Mr Stark left behind for me and now he's gonna kill my friends and half of Europe, so please, do not tell me to relax."

As the frustration which had once loudly called to him begins to settle down, Peter drops to sit in a chair, one beside where Analisa sits, watching the situation with saddened eyes. He glances up at Happy through his red-rimmed eyes, which had gained their colour from tears, guilt for his sudden outburst filling him. "I'm sorry, Happy. I'm sorry. I shouldn't shout. I just really miss him."

"Yeah, I miss him too," with a deeply-rooted sadness swelling within the depths of him, and shimmering in his eyes, Happy agrees with the boy. While he stares in the direction of Peter, his eyes do not lock into any specific thing, as instead, the man seeming in a haze of nostalgia.

"Everywhere I go..." Peter continues, hesitating for a second as his voice threatens to break beneath the heavyweight of his emotions. "I see his face. And... the whole world is asking who is gonna be the next Iron Man? I don't know if that's me, Happy. I'm not Iron Man."

"You're not Iron Man," Happy responds solemnly, a genuine tone inlacing his voice. "You're never gonna be Iron Man. Nobody could live up to Tony. Not even Tony. Tony was my best friend. And he was a mess. He second-guessed everything he did. He was all over the place. The only thing that he did that he didn't second-guess was picking you. I don't think Tony would've done what he did if he didn't know that you were gonna be here after he was gone. Your friends are in trouble. You're all alone. The tech is missing. What are you gonna do about it?"

And for a few fleeting seconds once the speech of Happy concludes, all falls silent within the aircraft, thoughts swelling within the heads of all. And, as if the words of the man had inspired an idea to form in his head, Peter Parker stands up once more. Forming upon his youthful features is an expression of utter determination, a newfound spark shimmering in his eyes. "I'm gonna kick his ass."

Cracking the stoic exterior that had settled upon the stress-worn features of Analisa, the words which the boy speaks causes the beginnings of a small smirk to dance upon her cracked, bloodied lips. She gives a humorous thumbs up to encourage the boy, saying, "Now that's the spirit, kid."

"No, I mean, right now. Like, specifically, what are we gonna do?" Happy interrupts the mild celebration of the two heroes before it can go too far, making a point of reminding them of their current circumstances; the task that's at hand. "Because we've been hovering over a tulip field for the last fifteen minutes."

"Right. I can't call my friends because he's tracking their phones..." Peter trails off as vague thoughts of what to do trickle into his mind, him pausing for a few seconds to think. He then swiftly moves to stand in front of Happy, his hand outstretched in a manner of awaiting, staring down at him. "Give me your phone."

"My cell phone?" Happy questions, both confused and slightly taken aback by the odd request of the boy. He, in response, only receives another urge from Peter to hand over the device. Begrudgingly, Happy digs into the pocket of his suit jacket, rummaging around for his phone, pulling it out and gently handing it over to Peter. "Okay. Here."