tyler_gone: ([dark] goggles)
Busy, busy, busy.

Tyler -- the real one -- never got enough time in charge, so he was making the most of it while he was out. He'd found a club meeting (he won, thank you, even if the tender red spot on his chest and catch when he breathed in had him worried about the ribs), given a pep talk to a couple slackers with fucked-up teeth. They seemed confused -- the wuss who shared his body had been out the week before threatening to tattle, or some shit like that -- but they'd warmed to him fast enough.

Now he was back in his apartment. The building was condemned, but the WiFi worked, and that was what mattered at the moment.

He idly watched a cockroach crawl across the wall as he tapped into a message board. The napalm didn't work because your proportions were all wrong, he typed. You gotta use cheaper orange juice, too. The good stuff's not acidic enough.

He believed in giving back to his community.

[OOC: Open if anyone wants to talk to not-exactly-Tyler.]
tyler_gone: (Dark Tyler - bored)
So there'd been a date. Dinner, anyhow. And, given everything, it had gone ... not bad. Well enough to get them to bed, anyhow, and that had been fantastic.

The problem was, once they were all curled up and close in bed, Tyler fell asleep. And when he woke up from a dream about the feel of intestines slipping over his hands ... he wasn't the same Tyler, and Tony was in the lab blasting rock at a volume that would have made a teenager's ears bleed.

Also, Tyler was bored. "Jarvis?"

[OOC: For the person who let me mod him through sex, and his robot friend.]

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Tyler Durden

April 2015

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