“Hi, Jarvis!” Summer waved haphazardly at the ceiling. “Please don’t call me ‘miss,’ it makes me feel like I should still be sixteen and virginal. First name is fine.” She unslung her backpack as she stepped into the elevator, letting it rest at her feet while she examined the details of everything.
“I know I’m sounding like an idiot fangirl here, but I can’t even express how amazing this all is.” The close confines of the elevator, she hoped, wouldn’t last long, because she could already feel the empathic side-effects kicking in. ‘Thank gods for shields and iron control,’ she thought.
There was a beat of silence, and then Tony supplied, “Summer Rainault, Jarvis. He can’t hear things said outside the building too well.” The last he directed at Summer. ”And I wouldn’t say you sound like an idiot fangirl.” More like just an average fangirl, really. He’d met enough fangirls to tell the difference.
It wasn’t the shortest elevator ride in history, but then it was a fairly large tower, and guest quarters were just a few floors down from the top. But it also wasn’t terribly long. When the elevator dinged open, Tony stepped out and gestured down the hall to the guest suites. ”Take your pick.”
For simplicity’s sake, Summer picked the first door she came to, pushed the door open with a gentle kick, and dropped her backpack just inside. Then she stretched hugely, with a crackle of unwinding sinews, and turned back to Tony. “Now what?”