It was another bar in New York, between Fifth and Mill's someplace. Tony swivelled in his barstool, half drunk; which was not nearly enough. It was one of those over-priced joints in the center of town designed almost solely for tourists with itchy pockets. It wasn't one of Tony's preffered haunts, but it would do. The girls were fast and easy and it made for a quick pick up. Problem was; Tony had grown significantly apathetic in the past six months. A quick fuck didn't seem to cut it anymore. The half assed five minute rendezvous were no longer enough to fill Tony's debt of self-destruction.

So he sat in the dim light, vaguely aware of his surroundings and barely alive; tasting the after burn of hot liquor along the sides of his throat. He was beginning to wonder why he'd come in the first place. In his ensemble for the night (dinner jacket, t-shirt and jeans) he was hardly a homing beacon for anyone willing to sell their dignity for time with Tony Stark. In this place he blended and faded into the walls. And, inasmuch as it was precisely what he wanted, it also bothered him so. Something irked him about not being the center of attention, when really it shouldn't have. He sighed and shut his eyes. He was going to give this place ten minutes. Just ten fucking minutes and then enough was enough.

After a shot of bourbon, he readied himself to leave, only to change his mind as a silken vision caught his eye. She was tall; far taller than he was: maybe six foot one or two. Her skin was porcelain and her eyes a bright green that seemed to peirce through his skin as their eyes met. Her breasts were ample but her cleavage was somewhat conservative. Her long emerald silk dress ended at an outrageous slit and beneath that her white legs went for miles.

Tony's heart picked up as she chose the seat beside his. How could she possibly inspire the madness in his mind that only Pepper had seemed capable of, with barely a glance?

Upon closer inspection, everything about her struck him as oddly familiar. From the side he could see her thin, pouting lips and wide green eyes. Eyes that he could swear he'd watched his little reflection dance in before. Eyes that brought a strange mixture of excitement and pure testosterone raging across his blood-stream as a matter of subconscious re-enactment brought on by nostalgia. Nostalgia he couldn't explain because he had never seen her before.

He impulsively imagined running his fingers through the long swept back, jet black hair reaching down to her shoulder blades. He could imagine kissing those lips. Her body, warm and delicate beneath his. His arms—

'Stark?' Her voice loosened him from his thoughts instantaneously. The look on her face is a mixture between pure shock and something else (Hate? Fear? Confusion? )

Shit. Had he been staring?

She worked quickly to recover from her outburst, but her smile remained uncertain.

'Hi.' He kept his voice a low visceral purr. Tony Stark was an old hand at the art of seduction, at this point it was a reflex.

She stared at him for a second, then laughed. 'You do not recognise me?' She raised an arched eye-brow.

'Oh,' Tony smiled. 'I think I'd remember you.' He took a final sip of the bourbon at the bottom of his glass. 'Tell me where we last met and I'll let you know if you're making it up.'

'Your tower. The one with your name written in lights. You spoke with me there. Proffered a drink?'

'Nope.' Had he really met her before? Was she making this up? She didn't seem like the type to make up desperate stories in hopes of finding herself between his legs. Girls like that were never this self assured. 'You're making it up.'

'Very well. I suppose I look a little different after all. I understand if you barely recognise me. Though I was led to believe you had a sharper mind than most on this rock.'

'It turns to mush around beautiful women.'

'Oh, yes and they were right about your reputation too. Never one to hesitate in the area of romance. Though I was under the impression you were courting Lady Pepper.'

Lady Pepper? That was straight out of left field.

'We're on a break.' That wasn't true. While they hadn't properly spoken for the longest time and avoided eye contact when they found themselves in the rare state of conversation, no one had mentioned anything about a break. It was his go to excuse, if he believed it enough it made fucking all of New York significantly easier.

He flagged down a bartender who came immediately to their service. 'Scotch?' he offered his new companion for the evening

'Your ale does not agree with me.'

'Just bring a single scotch and a juice for the lady,' and as soon as the bartender was gone, he gave her his full attention.'Ale? You must be from way out of town.'

'It's not too far.' She smiled knowingly, like she had a secret Tony was not allowed in on. 'You have a friend who hails from that land in your constant company.'

'The Black Widow? You're Russian.'

'A little further but... the conditions are similar.'

'Selvig them? You're Norwegian.'

She laughed. 'You truly do not recognise me?'

''Maybe if I had a name.'

'No,' She smiled and shook her head. 'I would be revealing far too much. I much prefer you to guess.'

Tiny grinned. He liked her.

'Okay, how many clues do I get.'

'That was all of them, Stark.'

'A challenge, I like it. I like you.'

Her eyes flickered uncertainly.

'You will soon find that statement is very flawed, Stark.' Her eyes gleamed unyielding sadness for the shortest time. Time enough for Tony to see what most would miss.

'Let's get out of here,' He looked her in the eye, and she seemed powerless to refuse.

It was a pretty shitty old Corvette he'd found one day on the trading floor of an auto show. He'd bought it on a whim. He never really did get around to souping it up and painting it candy apple red like all those 80s hair bands insisted he do. But for some reason, out of his entire collection of cars at Stark Tower, he liked it best. And he couldn't complain right now, having the hottest no-name-having 6"2 vixen in all of New York sat right beside him on the oldish leather passenger seat. Only problem was her inherent discomfort. She wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't look at him. Her galaxy halting eyes were trained forward. Her hair blew in the wind.

He drove them to an abandoned pier which; if you ignored all the hobos and the scent of rotten wood, probably provided the best view of this side of the city. Distant lights flickered relentlessly, mirroring the entire island's nocturnal reputation. He felt strangely at ease.

'Hey,' he spoke to his tacit date. 'I miss your sparkling wit.'

She laughed a dry, empty laugh. 'You may miss something about me, but that is not likely to be it.'

'Sorry? You're talking in circles again. Making me wish I hadn't taken those two shots of bourbon.'

'Surely no one would miss me, I don't think. My... My brother might. My mother... she might.'

'I would,' Tony smiled; knowing far too well what she was suggesting.

'You, Stark? Only if the snows of the Joutenheim turned to burning flame.'

And Tony remembered where he'd seen those eyes.