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.