The sky was overcast, but there was no taste of rain in the air as it drew to noon. Something smelled like it was cooking, though, wafting from the bistro, or one of them, on this street. The sidewalks were full, but not crowded, of people going along their way in a not-so-rushed manner; tourists stopped to take pictures, or gawk at the scenery. A car yelped to a halt to avoid bumping into one who'd stopped to do just that in the street, and shamed them along their way without honking and that was all.
A couple sat on a bench close together sharing a bag of dried blueberries; well, maybe they weren't a couple, but it looked like they might be soon. They looked like they weren't from around here, they looked like they could be from anywhere, anyone, like the change of scenery was getting to them.
Then there were people of all walks, waiting for the bus to come. And it was just a normal day.
Then the girl a few people back in the line broke free from her mother without the woman noticing, entranced by a moth-not even a butterfly, just a colorful moth-and ran out into the street, gawking upward as it flew out of reach and not behind her where the car was.
He wasn't sure just what it was about leisure that Pepper didn't understand. His phone buzzed against his fingers intervally, text after text, but he was surfing the internet and other important' things so he didn't bother looking at them. Really, he should have been enjoying the scenery or chatting up the natives and letting his mind rest as he gently absorbed yet another culture, but screw that. His mind was buzzing like a hive of angry bees and nothing seemed to be soothing it.
It did that when he was frustrated.
And even being apathetic in response to his frustration was frustrating him.
So when finally his browsing/Galaga/coffee fueled personal day was yet again interrupted by Pepper's face taking up the screen, he picked up and nearly struck himself in the ear with the electronic device, going "What?"
"Tony, where are you?"
"Still not at the conference."
"Damnit, Tony, have you seen anything I sent you? This is serious, listen-"
Car brakes squealed on the street right near the cluster of tables, next to the bus stop, the noise of metal being jolted back by tight suspension. Tony looked up out of reflex; there was nothing to worry about though, just some little girl ran out into the street-a man had jumped out and grabbed her just in time, and the car stopped as well. All unharmed. It was fine.
"You need to get back here right now. General Ross was just here and-"
The man grasped the girl who was crying out of shock, not hurt but already red and wetfaced, and he was trying to calm her, knelt down to her height and holding her by the shoulders. His French wasn't native. He was wearing a slicker and a hat and it wasn't raining. It didn't even taste like rain.
"Vous êtes bien ... vous devez être prudent."
"-where he went, but he might be back, and he's asking all sorts of-"
The mother got off her phone with a gasped curse and rushed to the curb, grabbing the little girl up in her arms and profusely thanking him and scolding her daughter at the same time. She was feeling her for wounds that weren't there while the man tried to back off, holding up his hand in a dismissive effort to wave away the praise. Not in the modest way. Seriously. The mother was just overreacting because she knew it was her fault and it could have been worse.
"-and I really don't like the feel of it."
The mother crushed her daughter between two bodies as she hugged the man, despite the fact his hands were dirty. He bent awkwardly, arms out. The hood of the slicker fell back, leaving only the hat.
"I think he knows where he is."
Tony's eyes went inky black and the phone fell away from his ear.
"Are you still..."
A filthy Bruce Banner stammered in French that it was nothing, nothing at all.