if_inconvenient | (no subject)

Before Obadiah has finished drawing breath to ask his question, Cal is wearing his Chandler family persona. Reed and Violet's son, with his father's warmth and charm and his mother's sweetness, and so friendly and polite too, what a credit to his parents he is!

This Cal, the Chandler boy, is completely different from the real Cal, wielding his natural charisma in a way he doesn't bother with in everyday life. The only reason it's merely effective instead of devastating is because he's always been taught to play the supporting role, not the lead actor.

(And if there's a little subtle mockery blended into the persona this time around, well, he can't help it with this particular audience, and it's nothing that could be pinned down if anyone tried to call him on it.)

He smiles engagingly and steps forward to shake Obadiah's hand.

"Mr Stane," he says, "it's good to meet you. You know, I remember my mother saying once that Mr Stark was lucky to have such good back-up in running his company. I'll make sure to tell her you're still loyal as ever."

A remarkable transformation. Sherlock actually smiles.

Obadiah, on the other hand, gets a little bit faker. "That's me," he agrees, shaking Cal's hand firmly but letting go a little too fast. "Howard was the genius; I just run the place."

"I'm sure Tony will be delighted to see you," Sherlock points out. No, it is not meant to be subtle.

"I'm not embarrassing you in front of your friend, am I?" Obadiah asks, and what he means is, you have a friend? Sherlock, who is still a little surprised at this turn of events himself, doesn't take offense at the implication.

"Well, you know what they say about the power behind the throne," Cal says. His look is slightly conspiratorial - remember, Obadiah, Cal's family is in politics, he knows how these things really work. (He overplays it just a little, but that's part of the game, too, playing along with the patronizing undertones in Obadiah's comments. He couldn't possibly be fucking with you; he is just a kid, after all.)

He steps back to stand next to Sherlock as he speaks, mirroring the way Sherlock is standing, deliberately creating a physical presentation of a united front. Yes, Obadiah, Sherlock does have a friend.

Damn, Cal is good. Sherlock is impressed by his attention to detail. If Sherlock had to be completely honest, he would admit that he is also a little touched by the solidarity.

"I'm more like the power in front," Obadiah jokes, all innocence (but that, too, is a little overplayed). "Public relations was never Howard's specialty."

He never talks about Howard this much in front of Tony. Sherlock supposes that is a form of kindness.

It's not strictly true, though. Howard Stark was pretty good at PR. He left it to Obie for convenience more than anything.

Putting forth the right image is all in the detail. That's just one of many things Cal has been drilled on from childhood. Saying things, or pointedly not saying them, isn't enough by itself.

There might be a very telling reason why the real Cal, so rebellious in private, doesn't seem to know how to control his body language as convincingly as this one does.

"That must be why Mother took an interest," he says brightly. "She does a little of that herself."

Violet would, in fact, approve of that phrasing. She prefers that her role in keeping Reed's career well-oiled be downplayed. Best just to be seen as the supportive wife.

"I imagine she is very good at it," Sherlock puts in, dry as dust.

"You know, I've never met Mrs Chandler, but if this shining example is anything to go by, I think you're right."

Now, on the surface of it, this is a fairly harmless compliment. He just called Cal charming. But for once, there is something Sherlock doesn't notice, and that is the unfortunate implications of the way Obadiah said it.

It's incredibly subtle, far more so than anything Obadiah has said or implied so far, and Cal would have missed it too, a few months ago. Before he knew about the . . . shift in the way his uncle looks at him now.

As it is, he tells himself he's imagining it, even as his expression flickers for just a second. Just seeing things. Just hearing things.

He smiles like nothing happened and says,

"She did teach me everything she knows."

What incredibly appropriate timing: Sherlock hears a noise from the basement stairwell, as of an approaching genius. (Obadiah, who's closer, doesn't. Sherlock has good ears.)

Cal, of course, doesn't either. His focus is on Obadiah, anyway.

In the next second, the clatter of Tony's approach becomes audible to everyone. He emerges from the basement dressed in sweatpants and a grease-stained tank top, with black grime under his fingernails and his hair still mussed from the safety goggles he left downstairs, and when he sees who's in the foyer he lights up like a gleeful Christmas tree.

"Obie! Hey, good to see you, man!"

He shakes Obie's hand and then hugs him, laughing, conscious but careless of the hell he is wreaking on that immaculate suit. Obadiah doesn't seem to mind; when he hugs back, his smile is as warm as Tony's.

The difference is, only one of them means it.

When Tony pulls back, he notices Cal at last and grins sheepishly. "Oh, hey." They've met before, he's sure of it, but the name escapes him at the moment.

The contrast between Tony's sincerity and Obadiah's resounding lack thereof is so clear that it distracts Cal completely from whatever vibes Obadiah may or may not have been putting out there a moment ago.

Well, shit.

"Hey, Tony," Cal says comfortably, without a hint of the rising dismay he's feeling.

He'd really have thought Tony would be smarter than that.

"You've met Cal, haven't you?" Sherlock provides.

"Yeah, right." Tony brightens a little. "You're—yeah, I know you."

(He avoids mentioning the bar just in time. Obie would want answers he's not qualified to give.)

"We have English together," Cal supplies.

That is a total lie, but the necessity of avoiding a mention of Milliways is obvious, and going to the same school is handy for that.

Tony catches on to this lie!

"Totally. Y'know, when I show up."

Tony is a bad liar, but sometimes he makes it work for him.

"Look, uh," he addresses Obie again, "you've probably got your car outside, right? Why don't you bring that in while I go grab a shower and quit getting motor oil all over everything?"

"Yes, thank you, Tony. You know how much I love these dry cleaning bills."

"Oh, bite me," Tony retorts with an easy grin. "I'll make it up to you. Send me the specs for that stealth fighter they're having trouble with in R&D. If I can get that working I bet it'll cover a little laundry. Anyways, see you in a bit." And he's off, headed for the stairs to the third floor.

"Well," says Obadiah, "I think that's my exit cue."

Cal, who had toned the persona down a little to talk to Tony, plays it back up again with a bright smile.

"It was nice to meet you, Mr Stane."

The "exit cue" thing is the first thing Obadiah has said that Cal has honestly agreed with.

"Absolutely. It's good to see Sherlock making friends. I worry about you, too, you know." He puts a hand on Sherlock's shoulder for a moment. They smile at each other, Obadiah with his patronizing fake fondness, Sherlock with undisguised loathing.

Then Obadiah turns away and walks out the door, his suit jacket still wrinkled and stained from Tony's hug.

"Well," says Sherlock, as soon as the door is firmly shut again. "I am sorry to have exposed you to that particular feud. I don't like him because he lies to Tony, and he doesn't like me because I notice."

The fake Cal drops away the second the door closes behind Obadiah, leaving the perturbed-looking real one in his place. He runs his hand through his hair, saying,

"Of course you do, he sucks at it."

"Does he now," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

"I knew he was full of shit the second I heard him start talking," Cal says. "He sounds like every politician ever. Except no one would vote for him."

"I certainly wouldn't, but it has occurred to me that my opinion may be biased. To find outside confirmation is... informative."

Cal glances at him.

"You're not wrong," he says. "He's pretty much an asshole."

This declaration comes with a matter-of-fact confidence that doesn't get heard from Cal very often. He knows he doesn't know much, but when it comes to identifying a particular kind of person, he's an expert. And Obadiah Stane falls into that category so neatly Cal has a hard time believing, even knowing not everyone has his experience, that other people can't see it, too.

He sighs.

"Thank you," he says, a little tiredly and completely without irony, "for providing an expert analysis."

"Any time."

Cal pauses, then,

"Tony really buys into his shit, huh?"

(He almost said something else, but decided against it.

He's just paranoid these days, that's all.)

"Yes," he confirms. "Tony does. And I... I have never been sure. Nor have I ever been able to convince Tony of my doubts."