The twosome worked late into the day almost in silence except to converse, or when Harmony asked questions.

"So, Harmony, tell me about yourself. Where are you from?" Tony asked.

"Oh, nowhere special," Harmony avoided the question and hunched over the desk a little more.

"I want to know, though," Tony lifted his eyes from the model to meet her gaze across the room. Harmony made eye contact for a second, then dropped her eyes back to the project.

"Alright. I'm from a little town in Rexburg, Idaho," Harmony sharpened her pencil absent-mindedly enjoying the musty smell of the sawdust. "When I was ten me and my dad moved to Casper, Wyoming. He was a…well, he worked for a company that moved around a lot. By the time I was seventeen we have moved twelve times. We ended up in Georgia."

"Where in Georgia?" Tony blew metal shavings off the table and continued his work.

"A tiny town you've probably never heard of. Tifton."

"You're right, I haven't," Tony replied frankly. "So where was your mom?"

"My mom left us when I was eight," Harmony said.

"Oh," Tony paused. "Sorry."

"No biggie. My dad was too much of a floater, surprised he kept me. His sojourner life drove my mom crazy. So she left." Harmony's tone turned cold and flat.

"Any siblings?"

"None," Harmony replied matter-a-factly. "Your turn."

"My turn?" Tony paled a bit. He had attempted to suppress all memories of his childhood.

"Where did you grow up?" Harmony's pencil scratched in a cozy way on the onionskin paper.

"Oh. Here, actually. This is my dad's place. I'd say I was a lot like your mom, I guess. I left my dad when I was eighteen. It took me until I was thirty to come home, after he died, to take over Stark Industries," Tony's voice was low. Harmony had begun to enjoy the baritone, growley tones to his voice.

"And?"

"And…nothing. That's it." Tony sighed. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," Harmony said.

"Want some dinner? Jarvis can order some take-out," Tony offered politely, turning in his chair. His dark hair stood up on end from the friction from the welder.

"No thanks," Harmony replied. "Maybe later tonight. Actually, I'm pretty tired. Mind if I go to bed?"

"'Course not," Tony seemed a bit disappointed despite his reply. "Harmony? Thanks for the company. It gets lonely down here."

"Sure," Harmony replied hesitantly, pausing at the door. "Goodnight."

Tony watched her go. Behind her tough face and polished demeanor, Harmony had some sort of gentle strength and damaged heart. He saw almost the nature of a animal who had learned not to trust anyone or anything. Harmony Clay relied completely on her independent self, but Tony guessed that didn't always work out for the spunky, yet internally wounded woman.

Tony and Harmony worked for several weeks on their project together. Although most of the time, the twosome fought over "who put the wrench in the wrong place" and picked at each other, they seemed to get along fairly decent. Tony was beginning to see Harmony open up to him, trust him, and become comfortable in talking to him.

Tony didn't tell Harmony about the photograph he kept in his bedroom. Harmony was still a code he had was yet to crack.