Chapter 34

Tony took a glance at the pillowcase Bog was wearing. "You should clean yourself up." He considered asking the house-elf to get some new clothes for himself, but then thought better of it. He remembered that handing clothes to these guys was like sending them on a one-way trip to misery town.

And there was Bog, looking up at him with eyes so wide and full of reverence, like Tony was some deity. It was unnerving. "I have a party tonight. Find me something decent to wear, and ditch the 'Master,' just call me 'Sir.' Got it?"

Bog nodded, bowing in a way that seemed to come from some deep-rooted reflex. "Understood, M-Sir," he said before vanishing into thin air.

Finally, Tony exhaled, a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He turned, pivoting to face George. Now, what's George up to? There he was, eyes glued to Mark II like it was a masterpiece in an art gallery.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked in amusement.

George jumped, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His face was close enough to Mark II to make Tony feel a twinge of jealousy, or maybe it was just annoyance. Caressing it like it was his long-lost lover or something.

"You built this? It's sick!" George exclaimed, eyes wide with admiration as he examined the suit.

Tony couldn't help but swell with pride. "Hell yeah, I designed and built it myself." Then, drawing closer to George, he asked, "Did you bring them? I want to integrate them into my armor."

"Got 'em right here." George dived into his pocket, pulled out a large trunk and dropped it on the table. Tony couldn't help but marvel at that trick. Extension charm, he'd have to look that one up later.

The trunk popped open, revealing an array of metal pieces, silver adorned with golden runes. They occasionally shimmered with a hint of ethereal light, like the faint glow of a distant star.

"Everything's in there," George stepped back, giving Tony the clear view.

Tony leaned in, drawn like a moth to the flame, and his fingers traced the magical patterns etched into the metal. They were exquisite, a work of art in their own right.

"These metals," George began, his voice alive with enthusiasm, "are a fusion of mithril and goblins' silver – quite the combination to acquire, I tell you. They strike a perfect balance between hardness and weightlessness. Plus, mithril's magical conductivity ensures flawless spellcasting."

George carefully picked up one of the metal pieces, holding it delicately between his fingers. He placed it onto the hand part of the armor, and the metal piece adhered seamlessly to it. He then tugged at it a few times to demonstrate its resilience.

"See? A simple touch, and it's as secure as can be. Even giants would have a hard time dislodging it," he explained confidently.

Tony eagerly stepped in. "Let me try." He began attaching one metal piece after another, each one slotting into place like a perfectly designed puzzle piece. With each addition, Mark II drew closer to completion.

Mid-creation, a thought popped into Tony's head. "What about spray paint? Will it mess with the runes?" Standing alongside the nearly finished Mark II, he scrutinized the golden-red armor with an air of contemplation. There was something about those silver fingers, though—they seemed out of sync.

"Ordinary spray paint won't do any harm," George replied, his attention focused on the armor. "The runes are enchanted and protected, so they won't be affected by external factors like paint. I used a special concoction made from dragon blood for that. By the way, how does it feel to wear this thing? Can I give it a try?"

Tony hesitated for a moment, his protective instincts kicking in. "Uh, not so fast, my friend. This armor is tailor-made for me, right down to the height and body shape. I'm afraid you won't fit into it."

George's face fell, disappointment etched across his features. "Ah, that's a bummer," he muttered, his voice tinged with dejection. "Can you at least show it to me, though? I'm dying to see it."

"Jarvis, prepare the suit," Tony instructed, the mechanical hum filling the room as Mark II's chest began to part sideways. He stood motionless, allowing Jarvis to adjust and secure the various parts onto his body.

Encased in the armor, Tony descended from the platform, each step deliberate as he tested the extent of his mobility.

"So, how does it feel? Any discomfort?" George asked, his curiosity sparked by the sight before him.

"Feels amazing, actually. Everything fits perfectly. No problems at all. Let me try something different," Tony replied, striding toward the nearby table. He grasped the wand by its hilt, channeling his focus into a simple lighting spell.

The wand's tip gave off a faint glimmer, and Tony couldn't help but notice how it felt in his grip. "I can use magic with no problem, but it's a bit hard for me to hold the wand." He eyed the thing close. He feared it might break if pressed it too hard. He snuffed out the glow and set it down on the table carefully.

"That could be a problem," George observed, eyeing the bulky fingers on the armor. His mind raced, trying to think of a potential solution.

"I can fashion a casing for your wand. It would offer protection, making it less prone to breakage, while also allowing it to materialize in your hand when needed."

With a nod, Tony began the process of detaching himself from the armor. Together, he and George carefully removed the right arm of the armor and placed it on the workbench.

George examined the bracer on the armor. "What were you originally planning to install in this spot?"

"I intended to put my missiles in there," Tony said, pulling up a video for reference.

George's mind whirled with possibilities. "Do you think removing the missile would have any significant impact?"

Tony mimicked the motion of drawing his wand. "You're suggesting we put the wand here, right? I think it could work. Losing one missile shouldn't be a major issue."

"Let's proceed with that plan then," George said, swiftly retrieving paper and pen from his pocket, and began to sketch out the design for the wand casing.

However, Tony just took one look at it before saying, "Jarvis, please assist our friend here."

"Of course, Sir."

In less than a minute, a plethora of data appeared on the screen in front of them. George's eyes widened in astonishment. "Can you sell Jarvis to me?"

Tony chuckled, shaking his head. "Nope, Jarvis is my friend. Even if I were to give him to you, he won't give any response to you."

"True," George sighed, disappointment lacing his voice. "By any chance, do you rent out any space? I'm looking for a place to set up my own workshop. Having Jarvis around would be incredibly helpful; it would save me a lot of trouble." Then, an idea sparked in his eyes. "I've got it! I can modify your armor for free! What do you think?"

Tony hesitated. "You know, this is my home, buddy."

George's face fell in disappointment.

"But," Tony continued, "you'd have to do something for me."

"What do you want me to do?" George asked eagerly.