Her gaze was wide and blank, unfocussing. “My grandfather is dead.” Even less tone marked these words, as if she barely knew what she was saying. Then she blinked, once, and tears slid down her cheeks. Summer’s face worked, and mechanically she shoved the phone back into her pocket before both hands came to cover her face and she made a horrid half-muffled wail. Her shoulders shook with the effort of smothering gasping, strangled sobs, mingled with more of those aching cries.
Jarvis was hugging her again before he could fully process it, though only for a moment. One hand on her shoulder, he gave her a few quiet moments to gather herself, before gently asking her, “Would you like some privacy, or shall I bring you to Mr. Stark?” Mr. Stark’s office was empty for the moment, and would likely remain so for the rest of the day. He didn’t see any harm in letting her borrow it if she needed to.
“I don’t know,” was all she could manage. “I don’t — I can’t — ” Another wail struggled out of her throat. This wasn’t like when she was crying after fighting with Dummy; this was infinitely more painful, tearing anguish that rocked her whole body. “It’s already so awful for him, I can’t — I should just — ” She wanted Tony, desperately, and struggled with the part of herself that didn’t want to add to his burden. “Please?” she whimpered finally.
In the end, the choice was taken out of their hands. Tony peered around the corner, wondering what was going on. “Jarvis, what—” He broke off mid-sentence, startled into silence, before he managed, “Jarvis, what happened?”
Relieved at Mr. Stark’s arrival, Jarvis walked over to quietly inform him, “She was on her way to see you, and got a phone call that her grandfather passed. I don’t…quite know how to handle this, sir.”
“Just…let me.” Tony stepped around Jarvis and pulled Summer close, one arm around her to guide her to the nearest couch. Anger or annoyance became temporarily irrelevant.
Someone’s arm, familiar and warm, went around Summer’s shoulder, pulling her along. Someone pushed her gently into a couch, and she leaned gratefully into the person, stunned with the sheer weight of grief that had come down on her. “Nonononono …” she moaned under her breath, tucking herself deeper into the warm shoulder. But the first rush of grief exhausted itself not too long after, and she pushed herself upright again, rubbing at her eyes, to notice that it was Tony’s shoulder she’d been crying into. “‘m sorry,” she muttered.