He watched her work her hair up into the bun as he spoke. “The others are more accepting, but Romanoff and Barton are a little more difficult. Can you see either of them being won over by charm alone? And my charm, after a while, tends to rub people the wrong way.”
Summer made a moue of agreement. “True, true. So what’s the right way to be rubbed by your charm, Mr Stark?” she snickered. “And … you have a /lot/ of cars.” She turned to him, turned back, turned to him, eyes wide, eyebrows up. “How can you even /decide/ what to drive?”
He laughed openly. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m not exactly on the receiving end of my charm. Oh, and most of these are project cars. I tinker with them when I’ve got free time, or when I just don’t want to work on other stuff and want to look busy. I usually stick to my Audis, the R8 in particular, for everyday driving,” he said, holding up the key fob for that car, and pressed a button that made the key pop out of it like a switchblade.
“I think I have to apologise, my car knowledge is patchy. I can do general styles, but getting down to specific models is beyond my recognition. Though … do you have the Spyder model?” Summer’s admiration was open right now, lightly brushing a hand over the bonnet of several of the vehicles.
“Not a problem. Most people I talk to are like that, but as long as they can see the beauty in the cars…” he trailed off, watching her do just that. “Then they’re alright by me. And yeah, I do.”
“Can we have the top down? Please?” She begged. Given that cue, it actually didn’t take her long to find the right vehicle, and she circled it a couple times, clicking fingernails against the finish. “So beautiful. You just surround yourself with beautiful things, don’t you? I think I’m jealous, I don’t fit here.”