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It was dark and cold as the great beast wandered, his eyes sliding over the multicolored terrain of the night. The blues, blacks, and greys let him blend in like another leaf on a tree, or at least so he liked to fancy himself. The spotting on his coat didn't have quite the aesthetic appeal that dappling did, and certainly didn't do much for helping him blend into the background around him. The long, spindly, apparatus protruding from his face gave him a good sense of when he was going to run into something, but otherwise he wasn't much for direction. He didn't have the slightest clue where he was going or what the end result of it would be. He needed direction, and he didn't have it. It was pleasant though, here in the dark, out of the world's eye. He could live a different life, but he couldn't say he was upset with the present.
He didn't have any company, but that was alright- he wasn't much of a conversationalist. His talents lay elsewhere- listening to what others told him to do and providing a rather large, rather thick, rather questionably dangerous punctuation to a threat. It wasn't a life he resented, though he could count himself out of work at the moment. It wasn't that he'd been undeniably rude to his previous employer, although he probably had, they'd just never seen eye to eye- both literally and figuratively. The great brute wasn't small, nor was he willing to lower his head down to speak to someone shorter than himself. While that was probably also rude, it just wasn't something that had ever occurred to him. So he'd been labeled snooty and aloof, and probably stupid as well, and chucked out in the cold and rain. Rain made a better picture, even though no drips fell from the sky. He was smart enough to make his story something that deserved more sympathy than 'apathetic jerk chucked out on his ass.'
Of course, Stark had never had a fan club. He'd never fit in with the regular crowd, the sort without any large blundering pieces of equipment on their faces, crowding up their view and making them the butt of some rather good jokes. He had a thick skin, and a small brain, but what he lacked between the ears he made up for in muscle mass. People tend to stop making fun of you when you point out that you could squish them flat. And the ones that don't, well to be fair, they're probably just as stupid as you are, so he pardoned them. He wanted company that looked like he did though, knowing that his parents had, so he just as easily could find others. He'd have to be quite a bit more special to be unique. He was one of a kind, but he was no wonder of the world, not even close to being a work of art. His body might be pretty, but it was perhaps the only admirable thing.
He snorted at the night, with its insistence on being prettier than he was. Everything in the world had something to pride itself on being- so what if his was average. He didn't have to sit here and take the darkness taunting him, pressing him about how attractiveness wasn't his.
"Shut up already, won't you? You're making me hurt." Not that he could say it was making his brain hurt- he wasn't that articulate. Body mass - 1, social skills - 0.
"blah blah blah."
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