"We need your expertise, Stark."
"You can't afford my expertise, and I've already done my good deed for the week," he says, a full smirk on his lips. "Why don't you take a card? We have a charity raffle every month."
The other man pulls a picture from his leather pocket. "This is something you might be interested in."
Coffee irises roll in annoyance. Everything might be something he might be interested in. Nothing actually piques his interest, anymore. For the sake of being left alone, he takes it. Rose-colored shades lower onto Tony's nose.
"I'm drawing a blank. What am I looking at?"
"This was found fifty miles out in the Arctic. A Russian oil team discovered the crash. We were there not even twenty-four hours later. What you're looking at is the remains of the Valkyrie."
"The Valkyrie?" His stomach drops to his toes. "1943? It's correctly dated and everything?"
"My men have already verified the authenticity of the craft. My question is: Are you going to be there when we open it or not, Stark?"
"I'll be there."
