“Something more Stark-like,” she muttered. Her questing hands pushed aside a drift (a drift of /what/, she didn’t know), and she spotted something gleaming dully. “This it?” She held it out on the palm of her hand.
Jack arched a brow. Stark… Stark… Ah! Right! He’d met a Stark fairly recently. The Stark, someone he really hadn’t thought he’d meet. He shrugged slightly, deciding it wasn’t of import before standing and looking. “Well look what it is. Thank you.” He flashed a grin. He didn’t say the words often, so he figured he could do it as some sort of apology for sniping, plucking the device from her hand and quickly picking at it, wiping it clean before putting it on and pressing it. “What’s the word on the target?”
Summer let her brows flicker surprise. If that wasn’t mild confusion before recognition, she was no kind of empath. Who in the world — this world, anyway — didn’t know the name of Tony Stark? Folding her arms and rolling her neck, she watched Jack, eavesdropping somewhat ostentatiously. Maybe he’d let her tag along if there was cleanup to be done. Her curiosity was more than roused, by this time.