“Bah, semantics.” Summer grinned. Tapping the backpack next to her with one foot, she glanced at the doors and said, “So, is there a protocol, do you need to do any kind of showy thing, or shall I just march in and take over?”
Tony shrugged, and slid his hands into his pockets. ”If there’s supposed to be a light show, they failed to tell me about it. So, best make with the marching and the taking over.” He turned, sweeping one arm towards the doors like some sort of extravagant doorman.
It should have taken half a second to sling the backpack over her shoulder. Unfortunately, the curse of ‘hair to your knees’ kicked in just then, resulting in three seconds of swearing, followed by ten seconds of pulling all the strands including the annoying elusive ones out from under the straps — and the total ruination of the cool impression she’d been trying to make.
“Aaaand now I look like an idiot.” Shoving her hair back over her left shoulder, Summer pulled the glass door open and asked, “How is this supposed to work, anyway? Am I supposed to follow you around, or … boss you around?” She accented that last with a raised eyebrow.