Few Hours Later:-
Later that day, Gojo found himself perched on a stool at the sleek, modern bar in one of the Tower's common areas. He was sipping a glass of orange juice, which Black Widow Natasha had offered him.
Given his apparent age, alcohol was out of the question, and frankly, Gojo (or at least, the fragments of personality and preference that were surfacing) wasn't a big fan anyway. He definitely recalled not being able to handle it well.
Natasha poured herself a small glass of something amber and leaned against the counter, her expression carefully neutral, though a hint of curiosity played around her eyes.
"So," she began, her voice smooth and casual, "any idea how long you were in that ice capsule, Gojo?"
Gojo took another sip of his juice, then looked at her, a playful, almost challenging glint in his bright blue eyes. "Why are you asking me that in such a flirty way?" he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"And with that flirty little smile? I'm sorry, but I'm not really interested in you." He then added, almost as an afterthought, "And no, I don't know how long I was in there."
Natasha blinked, momentarily taken aback. She hadn't intended to sound flirty; it was more of an unconscious habit, a way of disarming people, of gauging reactions.
It was a subtle form of teasing, a way to see how he'd respond. But Gojo's blunt, preemptive rejection, even if delivered playfully, stung a little, more than she would have liked to admit.
Just then, Steve Rogers, Captain America, walked over and took the stool next to Gojo. He'd overheard the exchange and offered a small, understanding smile towards Natasha before turning to the white-haired young man.
"Well," Steve said, his tone light, "she does that a lot. Don't take it the wrong way. It's just… her way."
Gojo shifted his gaze from Natasha to Steve, his head tilting slightly as he studied the Captain. "Can I ask you something?" he began, then seemed to reconsider.
"No, actually, I'll just say this… what's with your costume?" He gestured vaguely up and down Steve's off-duty but still recognizable attire.
"Like, you didn't have a better option? Or did you run out of money to get another design? Seriously, what's the story there? Because your costume pick feels like some kind of eighth-grade syndrome mixed with a righteous fever of justice. I mean, literally, who chooses their costume to be a country's flag?"
Steve's eyes widened slightly, a surprised laugh escaping him. "Wow," he said, shaking his head. "You've got quite a mouth on you, kid. You're like a mini Tony."
As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, Tony Stark strolled into the common area, a glass of what looked like expensive scotch in his hand.
"Hey, Cap, can you please not make every new kid a 'mini me'?" he said, overhearing the last comment. He sauntered over to the bar.
"And for the record," Tony added, turning to Gojo with a grin, "on the costume part, I totally agree with the kid. Seriously, Steve, if you like, I could give you some suggestions. Something a little less… 'Stars and Stripes Forever,' maybe a bit more 'sleek and intimidating'?"
Gojo turned his attention to Tony, a genuine smile spreading across his face this time. "Though, I have to say," he said, nodding towards where Tony's armor was likely stored, "I really like your armor. That's cool."
Tony beamed, puffing his chest out slightly. "See? Everyone loves my armor!" he declared triumphantly.
"Even the government wants a piece of it. Good taste, kid. You've got good taste." He took a sip of his drink, looking pleased.
The atmosphere, for a moment, felt surprisingly light, despite the undercurrent of unanswered questions and potential dangers.
Tony, buoyed by Gojo's compliment, strolled closer, intending to give the kid a friendly, appreciative tap on the shoulder.
"See? Told ya—" His hand stopped dead in mid-air, inches from Gojo's shoulder, as if it had hit an invisible wall. Tony's jovial expression faltered, replaced by a flicker of surprise.
Unconsciously, he muttered, "What?!" trying to push forward, but his hand met unyielding resistance.
Steve and Natasha, observing from their spots, exchanged surprised glances. This was new. It wasn't aggressive, but it was definitely a power, perhaps akin to the energy manipulation they'd seen from Wanda Maximoff back in Sokovia, but different, more subtle.
Tony, his mind instantly kicking into analytical mode, pulled his hand back. "Okay, hold up," he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Gojo, then at the empty space around him.
"Is this another one of your powers like super strength, super speed and teleportation? Some kind of personal force field? A localized distortion? Because that felt like hitting a very polite, very firm 'no-touchy' zone. Jarvis, are you picking up any energy signatures around him?"
Gojo just took another unconcerned sip of his orange juice. "Well," he said, setting the glass down with a soft clink. "You can say that. It's part of what I do. It doesn't let anything actually reach my body. It just… slows it down infinitely as it gets closer."
Steve, ever the tactician, leaned forward, confused. "So, how does that work? You didn't even move. You weren't concentrating."
"It's semi-automatic," Gojo replied simply, tapping a finger against his temple. "My brain handles it.."
Tony's eyes lit up with understanding. "So, it's like you have your own armor, similar to mine, but completely invisible. A constant defensive perimeter, active in an instant whenever you want it."
Gojo shook his head slightly. "Not exactly like yours," he clarified, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"This can't be bypassed by conventional means. Unless you have something that can literally negate or warp space itself, you're not getting through. And it can't be destroyed from the outside by force."
He paused, then added, with a casualness that belied the incredible statement, "In short, I can more or less control the infinity that exists around me."
Tony's mind raced, connecting dots. The "teleportation" he'd witnessed earlier, the sudden appearance and disappearance.
"Wait a minute," he said, snapping his fingers as a theory formed. "So, when you 'teleported' earlier when you appeared in front of me in the sky, and when you blasted out of that capsule and my Quinjet you weren't actually teleporting in the traditional sense, were you? You were manipulating space. You compressed the distance between your starting point and your destination, effectively warping space so that you just… appeared there. Like folding a piece of paper so two distant points touch."
For the capsule and Quinjet thing Tony deduces that he just destroyed it superfast and moved super fast and after he saw how it appeared in front of him in an instant he deduced it as a teleportation.
But for the kid to be Warping space so casually. That was surprising.
Gojo's bright blue eyes widened slightly, a genuine look of surprise crossing his features. He seemed genuinely impressed.
"Wow," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "You understood that fast. You are smart." He chuckled. "Usually, I have to explain it in a way way simpler way for people to get even the basic concept. You know, like 'I make the distance really, really small, really, really fast.'"
Tony puffed out his chest, a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Kid, you're talking to Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist," he recited, ticking them off on his fingers.
"I have several PhDs in physics, electrical engineering, and a few others I picked up for fun on a Tuesday. So yeah, I get the idea." He winked.
"An ability or power like your huh?! We should compare notes sometime and see what else you can do."
….
A/N: well how was it? They aren't pressing him into tell his abilities instantly as they don't know what hydra had done to a kid and they also think that kid is a little unstable in the mind.
So they are taking a simple level approach by making him trust them.
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