Chapter Summary: You're back at the Avengers Tower for a hastily-scheduled interview. How willing is Stark to overlook your lack of experience? And exactly what project does he have in mind for you?

A/N: I am really thrilled to see so many of you have been so interested by the story that you've added alerts/added it to favourites. Thank you so much to everyone, and to 44 for the review. No Loki in this chapter either, but our favourite resident mischief-manager will make an appearance next chapter for sure. Leave a review if you like!

I shuffled outside the Starbucks, deliberating between getting my caffeine fix to tide over the exhaustion and listening to the voice of reason saying that the dehydration from the caffeine was going to make my hangover worse. With a sigh of defeat, I stepped inside. Sadly, the enticing aroma of coffee did me absolutely no favours today. I felt the nausea rising in my belly. With anything that resembled, smelled, looked or sounded like coffee out of the menu, I decided on the only thing that could now lift my spirits: a hot chocolate.

I had woken up at 7 a.m. on a Sunday and was currently sipping a hot chocolate to nurse a hangover – and I blamed Tony Stark. After my hasty "yes" to Stark's question if I wanted to work for him – for the Avengers – he had asked me what I was doing the next morning.

"Sleeping in, I suppose. It's Sunday." I had shrugged.

"No you're not. You're coming in at 9 a.m. tomorrow and we're going to chat about my offer."

"What? Why?" I had asked, aghast.

"Have you never interviewed for a job or internship, kid? Please don't tell me you're new to even that!"

"Of course I have!" I cried, indignantly. "I just meant, why tomorrow?"

"Oh. Well, I like to get the ball rolling as soon as possible." And before I could ask anything further, he patted my shoulder. "Nice chatting, kid. See you tomorrow. Patel," he added and gave the man a finger salute before sauntering off.

I had had to remind myself that I was no longer in university, where I could wake up at 10:30 a.m. three days of the week to stroll in for an 11 a.m class. This was real life and real life apparently meant coming in for an interview at 9 a.m. on a Sunday. I had felt more reconciled to the idea after I had downed a couple more drinks, which brought me back to the predicament today.

I finished the hot chocolate, primped myself one last time, grabbed my folder and marched out. With an uneasy feeling that was from more than just the hangover and exhaustion, I approached the entrance. Avengers Tower had looked welcoming and exciting last night; now, it just looked sterile and imposing. The top of the atrium itself reached a couple of floors high. There were walkways on either side that looked over the large circular reception desk. The atrium was flanked by a wall of frosted glass bearing the Avengers' insignia. The water flowing down the glass cut pleasantly through the beeping pagers, clacking heels and muffled conversations, and I felt my spirits lifting a bit.

"Hi, I have a 9 a.m. with Mr. Stark," I gave one of the unoccupied receptionists my details.

She stared at her screen for a minute. "It is for the job interview, right?"

"Yeah."

The woman picked up the telephone and asked facilities to send someone over to escort me. While we waited, she printed a visitors card with my name and photo and instructed me to wear it. Soon enough, a man in a dark suit walked up to me. He told me to follow him and led me inside an elevator. He held his ID against a pad and pressed a button and off we were, rising up to what was definitely going to be an intense experience. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. It's going to be fine, I told myself. Worst case, I flunk the interview and Tony Stark forgets my name (if he even remembers it still). Best case… well, I dared not give in to the desperate hope that something as fantastical and sudden as this could come to fruition.

Sooner than I could have guessed, the elevator dinged and I opened my eyes. Confusion flitted across my mind as I realised that we were not in some conference room but at the penthouse level. The man from facilities – or an agent of SHIELD – must have sensed my hesitation, for he said, "Through there, miss."

"Thank you," I replied, shakily and moved to exit.

"Good luck."

I nodded stiffly as I walked ahead. It was difficult reconciling the scene of the quiet living room before me with the buzzing one from last night.

"Ah, there you are!" A voice came from my right and I snapped my head around. "Thought you had copped out and decided to sleep in. Wouldn't have blamed you if you did, I can't imagine why I told you to come at this time of the day."

Stark was shuffling about a huge open island kitchen, dressed in workout clothes and drinking some eerie green concoction. He was not alone; at the counter sat two women, looking unenthused but not miffed about being summoned to work on the weekend. Were they SHIELD agents? Was I going to be vetted? I had never even scored a parking ticket but I hoped they were not going to grill me about my browser history.

I took in a deep breath and slipped into my confident PR alter-ego. "Good morning, Mr. Stark," I began as I approached the trio. "Thank you so much for asking me to be here. I know it must not be often that you ask people in person if they would like to work for you."

"'Tony' is fine." He waved. "Have a seat!"

I awkwardly settled myself into one of the bar stools and rested my folder containing my resumes and portfolio on the counter.

"This," He began, pointing to the woman to the right, "Is Sarah Shaw, from HR." Sarah gave me a polite smile. "And this," he gestured towards the other woman, "Is Stella Lee. Stella is the head of our PR team."

I could feel my heart drop down my stomach. Of course he already had a full-fledged PR team, packed with people who had no less than at least 5 years of experience! Had I really been so drunk and hungover that I had not even wondered how the Avengers had been managing their PR so far?

Stella beamed at me and extended her hand. "Hi, how are you? It is always nice to meet the people whom Tony has cherry-picked himself!"

"I think I still have an interview to go through before I can claim to be cherry-picked by Mr. Sta – I mean, Tony." I smiled and shook her hand.

"Kid, do you want any breakfast? I hope you ate before coming here. But, we do have some bagels, if you like." Tony asked as he plonked himself between the two women.

I had only been able to stomach some yoghurt in the morning. I was hungry, but I did not want to eat in front of my interviewers and answer questions with food in my mouth. I also did not want to risk throwing up in front of them should my stomach still be playing up.

"No, thank you very much."

"What about coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"So, dear," Stella began. "What interests you about PR?"

I opened my folder as I gathered my thoughts. I handed each of them a copy of my resume and passed along my writing portfolio. "I have always been fascinated by the power of words. A few well-chosen words can accomplish something monumental. Conversely, a few ill-chosen words could destroy years of good work and reputation. That is why I am interested in PR, because I want to be able to use words to capture imagination, influence people and shape opinion."

"And why do you want to do PR for the Avengers?"

I huffed internally. First, it was not my idea to apply for the job and second, why the hell not? Neither of those reasons were going to sound half as clever as they did in my mind, however, so I mulled over the question.

"I want to do PR for the Avengers because they are subjected to a lot of scrutiny. Every day, someone writes or speaks about them in a new angle. The more they get written or spoken about, the more chances there are to build or damage their reputation. The latter is especially crucial, because no matter how much good the team can do, there will always be voices of criticism and opposition. We can't let all the cynicism – valid or invalid – detract from the good they do. And we can't be complacent enough to say that their actions will speak for themselves. The Avengers need help not just getting their side across, but also reassuring people that despite their uncommon lives, they cherish very common things."

Stella and Sarah were nodding silently, while Stark was tapping his index finger against his cheek. I wondered if I had overdone it.

"Did you rehearse that?" Stark asked at last. The question was cynical, but the way he asked it was not.

I shrugged. "Of course. No one goes to an interview without asking themselves why they want to work for that company." I was proud that my inebriation had not stopped me from at least putting myself in the headspace of an interview.

"Very direct." Sarah tilted her head.

"I try to be." I said.

"Good," Tony agreed, "But in our line of work we can't always hope to be fully direct. Can you deal with ambiguity?"

I pursed my lips. I had never taken a class on PR ethics and I was wondering if that would have helped me prepare a response. "PRs deal with ambiguity every day. I understand and support not revealing every single detail to the public. The need for complete or partial honesty depends on the context. But, I will not be dishonest or deceptive."

"What if we asked you to?" Tony interrogated. I was beginning to hate how his gaze pierced into me.

"I hope you won't."

"But what if we do?"

"I don't think you will." I mumbled.

"Why do you say that?"

"I…" I began, my gaze flitting about helplessly. Stella and Sarah were being no help. I looked upwards, scrunching my eyes, praying to whatever god that existed to help me out. "You just don't seem like that sort of a person. You wouldn't be an Avenger if you wanted to operate that way."

"Kid, we're not exactly the Twelve Apostles here," Tony began, "But I suppose you're right. You say that I don't 'seem like that sort of a person'. Would you say you can figure out people quickly?"

"I'm not really a behavioural psychologist," I said, "But, I can work out who is going to be useful and who is going to be cooperative. I can work out whom I'm not going to get along with, for sure." I joked weakly.

"Oh, you don't need to be an expert to figure out who exactly you're going to dislike," Stark muttered under his breath. I frowned, clueless about what he meant. Before I could follow up, Stella interrupted.

"So what areas of PR interest you?"

"I have studied community relations, crisis communications and non-profit PR. I have a lot of hands-on experience in corporate communications. Most of that has involved media relations, but I did a benchmarking exercise for the CMO of a pharmaceutical company once."

"What sort of benchmarking?"

"Our PR agency was in charge of doing an image rebranding of the CMO. We conducted some interviews with his team members to find out his strengths and weaknesses as a communicator. I was responsible for finding common sentiments among the team members and jotting down opportunities for the CMO."

The three of them exchanged a knowing look and I fidgeted yet again in my seat. I was fast becoming tired of being kept in the dark for whatever Tony wanted out of me. At this point I would not have been upset if I had made a slip-up as long as they told me what it was that I had done, or not done.

"How well do you handle yourself in a crisis?" Sarah asked.

I managed to mask my look of irritation with one of polite interest. "If you are asking about how well I perform crisis communications, then I would not know. I have only studied about the process and while I am aware of the fundamentals, I would by no means call myself an expert. Otherwise, however, I do manage myself well in a crisis. Yes, I get stressed easily but I keep my head and work through the situation to the best of my ability."

Sarah nodded at me. There were a few moments of silence during which three of them poured over my resume, cover letter and portfolio. Then, Stella turned to Tony and nodded. He clapped his hands softly and turned back to look at me. I was wondering if I should break the silence, when thankfully Stella spoke up.

"Do you have any questions for us?"

I had prepared a bunch of intelligent questions. I could have asked about what it was like to do PR for the Avengers on a daily basis. I could have asked them what sorts of challenges I would face at work. I could have asked them to describe their PR efforts in the aftermath of that freaky event in London.

But, my curiosity was consuming me and my irritation was only adding fuel to the fire. So, I asked, "Is this standard procedure for you guys? I know that a lot of PRs get jobs due to networking. But, I doubt the owner and former CEO of Stark Industries jumps at the chance to rope in a complete rookie he met at his party, especially when he already has a highly experienced, well-oiled PR team."

"Sarah, note down her details, please. I'll let you know the final verdict." Tony piped up suddenly. "Stella, thanks for your help. I'm sorry I dragged you both here today, I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Sarah and Stella nodded at me and without anything more concrete than a simple 'have a nice day', they made their way to the elevator. I looked around in ever rising bafflement. Was I dismissed? How badly had I fucked up?

"Kid, I know you have a lot of questions. You seem like a very questioning sort. And I promise I'll answer your questions. But first, I need you to sign something."

It was then that I noticed that Sarah had left behind two sheets of paper on the slab: non-disclosure forms.

I raised an eyebrow. "A non-disclosure for an interview?"

"I'm about to tell you something highly confidential."

He stared at me impassively, waiting for me to look over the documents. Having no other option, I began skimming through the form. It was a standard non-disclosure, nothing extraordinary, but still enough to whoop my ass to infinity and beyond should I ever utter anything beyond the fact that I had gone for an interview to Avengers Tower. Of course, that was not going to stop me from telling my mother every little detail about today. I had sent her a text saying I had an interview lined up for today, but little else. My hungover self hadn't been interested in explaining to my mother how I had secured an interview with Tony Stark, especially when I wasn't entirely sure myself.

I signed the forms and pushed them towards Tony.

"There, I'll keep this and you keep that," He pushed back one of the forms towards me. I filed it away in my folder and clasped my hands expectantly.

"What will you do if a conflict broke out right now? Life or death situation." Tony asked.

Was this a trick question? Was I supposed to show how courageous and selfless I was? Were these prerequisites for working for the Avengers? "I really haven't given it much thought."

"Give it some thought, then."

"I guess I'll hide away and leave you to deal with it. I'll try to escape if I think I can and try to alert whoever is around to what's happening.

"What if there was another attack in New York?"

I could feel the headache returning. "You said you would answer my questions after I signed the non-disclosure." I said, rather petulantly.

"I did; I just didn't specify exactly when." Tony grinned.

I barely managed to stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Mr. Stark, with all due respect, I thank you for your time, but if I haven't performed as well as you had expected me to, please just –" I began, but I was interrupted by two people bickering.

"I'm telling you, Nat –" A man was drawling. The two figures came to an abrupt halt at the kitchen. Before I could think about how silly I was going to look, I jumped to attention. Before me stood Agent Romanov and Agent Barton, colloquially known as the Black Widow and Hawkeye. Thankfully, I didn't actually stomp my foot and salute, but that was my only saving grace. I had seen Agent Romanov at the party and she had looked just as imposing and unwilling to suffer fools as she looked right now. I had not seen Agent Barton; then again, the man was known for perching himself up high away.

"Oh, hey, Bonnie and Clyde!" Tony greeted. "Hey, Bruce."

Agent Romanov looked back and gave the newly arrived Dr. Banner a warm smile. Dr. Banner nodded affably at the rest and gave me an uncertain smile before slinking away elsewhere.

"Who's the new meat?" Agent Barton asked, biting into an apple.

"This is our new PR. For our… guest." Tony spat out the word as if merely uttering it had caused his tongue to burn.

"Oh, boy, here we go again." Agent Romanov rolled her eyes and walked past Tony to raid the fridge.

"Tony, I wouldn't leave an entire squad of SHIELD agents around him for more than five minutes, and you want to subject this poor girl to him for eight hours a day?" Agent Barton said.

"She'll be fine! We have fully restrained his magic, as you've heard Thor say many times."

"Yeah, or that's what he wants us to think," Agent Barton muttered under his breath.

"And if something goes wrong – which it won't, but on the off-chance it does – we will all be here and Bruce will, of course, Hulk-smash him to Asgard come."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Agent Barton said and sidled up to Agent Romanov, seemingly having given up.

Before I could open my mouth to ask a question – or scream it, for that matter – Tony interrupted, "I know you don't have much experience in image and reputation management, but would you like to take that on?"

I blinked. I had been expecting more sidestepping, more dodging of questions and more random lines of questioning, but this was pleasantly direct. "For the Avengers?"

Tony took in a deep breath. "For Loki of Asgard."