MHA #8, Sunday...all day probably

Stark had come back to himself when the sun came up. Which meant he'd woken up, huddled in his costume cape, in an alleyway. Without his mask. Not the ideal way to wake up when you were someone who needed your mask to keep energy from leaking out the space where the rest of your face ought to be.

A brief but frantic search of his surroundings was interrupted by remembering the events of the previous evening. At that point he'd bolted for his apartment, muttering darkly to himself the whole way.

Hopefully he'd be forgiven for slamming the door to the apartment so forcefully once he arrived.

Once safely inside, he had changed into warmer normal clothing, flinging the costume into a corner to be dealt with later. Now he just needed to find something to cover his face with until he could figure out where his mask had ended up. At least he had some experience with improvised face coverings.

Halloween, he'd decided, was not something he intended on celebrating again. Possibly ever. And going out in public wasn't looking great for the foreseeable future.

[Very open should you wish to see a maskless alien stomping around talking to himself and looking for something to wrap around his head.]