“My /preference/ is for bare feet, but that’s just not feasible in New York, really.” Socks! It was cute, a thing she hadn’t expected of Tony Stark. Summer followed him out of the elevator and paused at the expanse of window before her. She barely even noticed Tony taking off his shoes, drifting toward the glass.
“It looks so different from the inside,” she murmured, fingertips lightly against the pane. “No wonder I could hear your panic when you fell. It’s amazing you survived.” She turned, slowly, gazing up and around, noting the narrow window-slits, the ramp, the bar. “I love the openness of it,” Summer commented, after a long silent moment.
Tony gave a shrug. “I don’t go out much anymore.” He didn’t need to, really. Everything he wanted was in here. Well, shawarma had to be ordered from the outside, but he was fine with that. “Huh?” He questioned, turning to look at her before noticing where she was. Frowning at the memory, he hopped off a few steps before coming down to the lower part of the penthouse and stood next to her.
“I had my suit. And the bracelets.” He assured her after a moment. Tony was lucky he had thought of those before he came to New York. Now, he always kept them in his pockets so he didn’t have to run to his bar every time he needed them. “I do too. It’s why I designed it this way.”
“I know you did. Well, I know now. All I knew then was that I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to catch you. Too much distance to cover, too many other people who might be sacrificed if I tried.” Her voice was low, distant. Those memories hurt; she hadn’t been able to save everyone. The count of the living …
But here was one of the living, and the ripples from him were enormous, and affected far more than her. She shook her head, shaking off the thoughts. A smile curled at her mouth when she noticed the sock feet. Why did his humanity make her like him even more? “Going to do the rest without shoes?”