Raina Clark's job description was limited to secretarial and assistant work for pper Pots. One of Tony Starks ultimate plans now involved her. Send help. Tony has no idea what he is getting himself into. *PTSD TRIGGERS*
"Honestly, look at me" He smiled broadly and waving his arms around "I'm the full package…maybe even more"
"You're an idiot" Was there any better response? Probably. Tony was waiting for Pepper to finish a teleconference call meaning he was waiting in my office. I was Mrs. Pepper Pots' secretary and PA – well that was my official title. My secondary title could possibly be Tony Stark Babysitter, at least when Pepper wasn't around.
"You're an idiot" he muttered.
"Creative" he frowned at me
"You're grumpier than usual – what's wrong?" While Tony wasn't one to be caring or sentimental he was obscenely curious to everything – especially when it was none of his business.
"Nothing Tony, I'm trying to work. So be quiet" I kept my voice monotone, he usually eventually took the hint that I didn't want to talk.
"C'mon Pipsqueak – tell me" Apparently his use of Pipsqueak was endearing to him. I found it annoying. My height seemed to be the brunt of most jokes made towards me, my entire life, this was nothing new. Yet Tony never let it go. Eventually I just let it go, there was no changing his mind. I just wore bigger heels, which brought my 5'2 to be seemingly less juvenile. Before I could retort with something sarcastic or equally as annoying; Peppers door opened. She peeked her head out and smiled at Tony
"Hey! I'm free now just have to pack stuff up. What'd you have in mind for dinner?" Tony, for all his faults and annoying remarks, was a whole other person when she was in his presence. He seemed calmer and his smile more genuine.
"I have a plan" He simply stated as he followed her into her office. The quiet filled the room with his departure. Sighing deeply, I sat back in my chair. Working for Stark Industries had its perks, nothing was minimal or ordinary. My chair provided extreme comfort and flexibility. Perks of the job. My computer screen was blank and I stared at myself for several moments. Bronze hair waved to my shoulders. Small features accentuated with makeup. Grey blazer over a purple blouse. Deep hazel eyes stared back at me. Plain. Simple. The thing is, no matter how much you dress up or how much makeup you wear – your eyes tell the truth. Today, mine looked drained. Another sleepless night and long day at work. PTSD was a horrible thing. It really was. It had been a little over a year since I'd returned from war. A shell of who I used to be and no amount of counselling or psychotherapy have been able to reverse it. Yet here I was working, living, breathing but it felt wrong. Have you ever had that feeling of being off balance but you have no idea what is throwing you off? The clock across the room told me it was 6pm. I usually left the office around 8. Putting in as many hours as I could just to avoid thinking but not today. Today I felt like going home, putting on sweat pants and binging on Netflix for a few hours. Ya. That sounded like a plan.
Rolling my chair to a filing cabinet – I stored papers and locked it. I grabbed my purse quickly stashing my belongings inside. Water bottle. Agenda. Glasses. Pens returned to their holder. Odd papers placed in a drawer beside me. I'd deal with it all tomorrow. I knew I'd have to let Pepper know I was leaving, but not wishing to disturb her or Tony I decided I'd leave a note. As I scribbled out a legible note explaining all was fine and I was just leaving early today – the door opened. Pepper and Tony walked out. Her with an apologetic look and him smugly grinning. My heart sunk. There goes my plans.