“I’d prefer it that way,” said with a smile, following slightly behind her. But the smile didn’t last, and faded into a frown. “Hey now…” he said, touching her arm again, and resting it there until she looked at him. “Don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“That’s real sweet of you to say,” she told him, a hint of southern drawl creeping into her words. “I’m fine with how I look, really. You don’t have to tell me different.” Pulling the door open, she slid in, admiring the gadgetry of the dashboard. “Mmm, I could get used to this.” Her eyes sparkled at Tony. “I’ll have to come up with a reason why you should keep me around.”
He sighed, but didn’t push the issue. Tony walked around to the driver’s side and dropped in, sliding the key into the ignition and starting her up. He inhaled deeply, listening to the engine purr. He looked over to Summer and said, “I’m sure we can think of some reason to keep you around,” he remarked with mock-seriousness. “Because you being incredibly nice, and refreshingly honest isn’t enough.” He changed gears and started the drive out of the shop and toward the driveway.
“Anthony Stark! That was a compliment! What in the world. I’m all sort of flustered now.” Mockingly Summer fanned her face. “Goodness me, sir, I shall have to be suspicious of your motives. You are quite dangerous to a lady’s sensibilities!” She couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and started giggling helplessly. “You know what’s hilarious? You /still/ haven’t so much as asked my name.”
“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.”
“I’d prefer it that way,” said with a smile, following slightly behind her. But the smile didn’t last, and faded into a frown. “Hey now…” he said, touching her arm again, and resting it there until she looked at him. “Don’t say that. It’s not true.”
“That’s real sweet of you to say,” she told him, a hint of southern drawl creeping into her words. “I’m fine with how I look, really. You don’t have to tell me different.” Pulling the door open, she slid in, admiring the gadgetry of the dashboard. “Mmm, I could get used to this.” Her eyes sparkled at Tony. “I’ll have to come up with a reason why you should keep me around.”
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.”
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.
An eyebrow lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I just thought it’d be nice to repay you for your selfless assistance. No offense was meant,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Figured since I’m the billionaire here it would be more sensible for me to pay for a lady’s meal.”
“Oh sensible! Sensible is not what brought me down here.” Summer shook a finger at him. “I will permit you to drive. And choose the restaurant. We’ll see about the bill. In the meantime I want to know what you were working on.” She raked long fingers through her hair, then started rummaging through pockets in her bag with a slight frown.
“It’s a rare commodity, my sensibility,” Tony joked, fetching a set of keys from a nearby table and missing the frown she made. “Okay, I know a great little place. You like Mongolian food? As for what I was working on, it’s part of a tear gas emitting arrowhead for Barton. Trying to win them over, little by little.” It was true, and the only way Stark knew how to do that was to build them things. He was also working on creating a new material to better protect Barton and Romanoff, but he’d only just started designing that.
With an exclamation of discovery, Summer pulled out a metal butterfly clip. “That’s what I needed. Mongolian sounds great.” With practised and economical motions she wound her hair up into a bun and clipped it. “You have to win them over? Dude, you /saved the world/. That’s gotta count for something. I figured your charm did the rest.”
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?”
An eyebrow lifted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I just thought it’d be nice to repay you for your selfless assistance. No offense was meant,” he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Figured since I’m the billionaire here it would be more sensible for me to pay for a lady’s meal.”
“Oh sensible! Sensible is not what brought me down here.” Summer shook a finger at him. “I will permit you to drive. And choose the restaurant. We’ll see about the bill. In the meantime I want to know what you were working on.” She raked long fingers through her hair, then started rummaging through pockets in her bag with a slight frown.
“It’s a rare commodity, my sensibility,” Tony joked, fetching a set of keys from a nearby table and missing the frown she made. “Okay, I know a great little place. You like Mongolian food? As for what I was working on, it’s part of a tear gas emitting arrowhead for Barton. Trying to win them over, little by little.” It was true, and the only way Stark knew how to do that was to build them things. He was also working on creating a new material to better protect Barton and Romanoff, but he’d only just started designing that.
With an exclamation of discovery, Summer pulled out a metal butterfly clip. “That’s what I needed. Mongolian sounds great.” With practised and economical motions she wound her hair up into a bun and clipped it. “You have to win them over? Dude, you /saved the world/. That’s gotta count for something. I figured your charm did the rest.”
*touches his arm lightly* It’s not given to us to know the count of the living.
If I hadn’t been so naive… Jesus.
If you hadn’t believed people were good? If you hadn’t counted them by the weight of your own heart? If you hadn’t been someone who could trust?
…
More or less… As bad as that sounds.
It sounds like the kind of person the world needs more of. *tips head to the side, looking up at Tony* And now … you don’t let yourself trust at all? Everyone wants something of you, no one is simply good?
It is a rare situation when I trust someone fully without at least questioning their motives. Or myself.
And I think those closest to me can sense it.
Why would you question yourself? You don’t deserve good things anymore? Endless punishment, for a simple mistake?
*touches his arm lightly* It’s not given to us to know the count of the living.
If I hadn’t been so naive… Jesus.
If you hadn’t believed people were good? If you hadn’t counted them by the weight of your own heart? If you hadn’t been someone who could trust?
…
More or less… As bad as that sounds.
It sounds like the kind of person the world needs more of. *tips head to the side, looking up at Tony* And now … you don’t let yourself trust at all? Everyone wants something of you, no one is simply good?
Had a few drinks. Few too many, with the day I had, I guess. When I do that, the past has a way of creeping up on me… I’m not sure what else there is to say, honestly. Or how to say it.
Someone you didn’t save? Someone you couldn’t save, maybe. That’s … a lot of guilt.
I… Yeah. A good man. A great man.
And more than that, people I indirectly harmed. So many people.
*touches his arm lightly* It’s not given to us to know the count of the living.
If I hadn’t been so naive… Jesus.
If you hadn’t believed people were good? If you hadn’t counted them by the weight of your own heart? If you hadn’t been someone who could trust?
I’m not really used to doing that. Talking about things…
I don’t know…
It doesn’t have to make sense to me. I mean *blows a frustrated raspberry* you can just ramble, and I’ll listen, and afterwards you’ll feel better and can get back to work. I really do think it will help.
Had a few drinks. Few too many, with the day I had, I guess. When I do that, the past has a way of creeping up on me… I’m not sure what else there is to say, honestly. Or how to say it.
Someone you didn’t save? Someone you couldn’t save, maybe. That’s … a lot of guilt.
I… Yeah. A good man. A great man.
And more than that, people I indirectly harmed. So many people.
*touches his arm lightly* It’s not given to us to know the count of the living.
