Watching other people run always made her think she should be running herself. She didn’t, of course, but it made her think she should. Laziness was an indulgence. So she indulged herself, sprawling belly-down on a blanket near the path, watching other people run.
Or, in some cases, not run.
He’d /been/ running. Dampness still stuck his hair to his neck, shirt to his chest. She drew her gaze down the rest of his body, then back up. Headphones. Arc reactor.
Arc reactor?
“Bit risky, just running around the city, with the number of people who want you dead, isn’t it?” she called to Tony Stark.
Well. That got his attention.
He blinked, looking around to try and figure out exactly who had spoken to him. The voice was vaguely, vaguely, familiar, and female. Which at least, he hoped, it meant it wasn’t a Loki. Because that would be bad. Like many things.
Like swooping.
However he soon noticed the girl… woman… girl?… female laying on a blanket, an eyebrow arched.
“… well it is now, seeing as you just reminded the general populace that it wanted to kill me.”
Funny. She arched an eyebrow right back. “No longer capable of protecting yourself? You could hire a bodyguard.”
Come to think of it, although she’d been joking, what exactly was Tony Stark doing, just … running? Didn’t that Tower of his have basically every amenity known to man, and some only known to, well, Tony Stark, in it?
She looked him up and down, grinning. “Or you could run away. You’re all set for that.”
