When I get out of the car, I am honestly happy to be alive; being in the passenger seat with Tony at the wheel, going maybe two hundred miles per hour across Malibu, is enough to freak me the hell out and never want to get in a vehicle again. If Tony ever drives like that with me again, I'm going to reach over into the driver's seat and throttle the life out of him. Just a thought.
While Tony banters with Happy, the guy who's technically supposed to be his chauffeur, but who was actually behind us in a different car the whole way-guess he and Tony were having a race, the bastards-I take my backpack out of the trunk and stumble up the stairs to the door of Tony's private jet, then bend double and try not to throw up.
Rhodey, Tony's friend, smiles at me and says, "You okay, kid?"
I wave my good hand indistinctly as a wave of nausea passes over me, then straighten and tell him, "If I were crawling on the floor dying, and getting in a car with THAT psycho-" I point to Tony, who is walking leisurely towards us, "-was my only chance of survival, I would gladly choose death."
"That bad, huh?" Rhodey chuckles, then turns to Tony. "You're three hours late. I have been standing here waiting for you for three hours, Tony."
Tony jumps up the final step and pushes past us both into the plane and teases Rhodey, "Waiting on you now, let's go."
Rhodey just shakes his head and shares an eyeroll with me, then we both follow Tony into the plane, only to find him looking strangely at a rather tall figure in an army uniform. Stepping forward, Rhodey informs, "Tony, I'd like you to meet Commander Yvonne Sheffield. She'll be accompanying us to Afhganistan."
Commander Sheffield is a tall, nicely tanned brunette in camoflauge, with biceps that could take me out in a matter of seconds. Now, I'll be honest. I've met plenty of women who intimidate me; I've met a few women who worry me, sure; never have I met a girl who downright scares the living shit out of me.
I think Commander Sheffield could be the first.
She stiffly salutes Tony, staring straight ahead with her large green eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, sir!"
"Same here, Commander Sheffield. This here is Xavier Parsons. He's a new addition to the passenger list as well." Tony replies, smacking my back. Ow. Why does he do that?
To my surprise, she salutes me, too. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parsons, sir!"
I snicker, "You don't have to call me Mr. Parsons. I'm only fifteen."
She half-smirks. "Army protocol, Mr. Parsons, sorry for the inconvenience."
Tony says, "Well, you don't have to keep that up if you don't want to, Commander Sheffield."
She nods as the others take their seats, loosening up. "Thank you, sir. What do you want me to call you then, Mr. Parsons?"
"Just call me Xavier." I reply, and she grins, shaking my hand properly, nearly crushing my right hand in her enthusiastic grip. "Then you can call me Yvonne."
"Cool. Can you please not break my fingers? I kind of need them, because they're the ones that still work." I say, and she releases my hand instantly, chuckling, "Sorry, I tend to get a little excited sometimes. What happened to your arm?"
Damn. Me and my big mouth. "Um. . . nothing?"
"Nothing is not when you have your arm in a sling. Tell me." she orders, looking a tad menacing.
"Okay, okay! Don't kill me! My arm is just really weak, because that's where I've got cancer." I really hate it that my cancer is usually the first thing that strangers know about me. It really makes true relations tough, since they're always freaking out and worrying about me and showing pity or frightened sympathy, which pisses me off.
Her mouth falls open, which I expected, and she blinks slowly. Uh-oh, here goes the bombshell. "Oh. . . I'm so s-"
"It is so very important to your future that you not complete that sentence." I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "I don't want your sympathy."
She raises her eyebrows. "Well, aren't we feisty this morning? Someone forgot to take their happy pills!" I laugh, despite myself, and she grins. "Problem solved, right? You want some gum?" She holds out some fruity Trident gum, and I take a piece. "Thanks."
"No problem." she responds, sitting down for takeoff. I like this girl already.
While Tony banters with Happy, the guy who's technically supposed to be his chauffeur, but who was actually behind us in a different car the whole way-guess he and Tony were having a race, the bastards-I take my backpack out of the trunk and stumble up the stairs to the door of Tony's private jet, then bend double and try not to throw up.
Rhodey, Tony's friend, smiles at me and says, "You okay, kid?"
I wave my good hand indistinctly as a wave of nausea passes over me, then straighten and tell him, "If I were crawling on the floor dying, and getting in a car with THAT psycho-" I point to Tony, who is walking leisurely towards us, "-was my only chance of survival, I would gladly choose death."
"That bad, huh?" Rhodey chuckles, then turns to Tony. "You're three hours late. I have been standing here waiting for you for three hours, Tony."
Tony jumps up the final step and pushes past us both into the plane and teases Rhodey, "Waiting on you now, let's go."
Rhodey just shakes his head and shares an eyeroll with me, then we both follow Tony into the plane, only to find him looking strangely at a rather tall figure in an army uniform. Stepping forward, Rhodey informs, "Tony, I'd like you to meet Commander Yvonne Sheffield. She'll be accompanying us to Afhganistan."
Commander Sheffield is a tall, nicely tanned brunette in camoflauge, with biceps that could take me out in a matter of seconds. Now, I'll be honest. I've met plenty of women who intimidate me; I've met a few women who worry me, sure; never have I met a girl who downright scares the living shit out of me.
I think Commander Sheffield could be the first.
She stiffly salutes Tony, staring straight ahead with her large green eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, sir!"
"Same here, Commander Sheffield. This here is Xavier Parsons. He's a new addition to the passenger list as well." Tony replies, smacking my back. Ow. Why does he do that?
To my surprise, she salutes me, too. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parsons, sir!"
I snicker, "You don't have to call me Mr. Parsons. I'm only fifteen."
She half-smirks. "Army protocol, Mr. Parsons, sorry for the inconvenience."
Tony says, "Well, you don't have to keep that up if you don't want to, Commander Sheffield."
She nods as the others take their seats, loosening up. "Thank you, sir. What do you want me to call you then, Mr. Parsons?"
"Just call me Xavier." I reply, and she grins, shaking my hand properly, nearly crushing my right hand in her enthusiastic grip. "Then you can call me Yvonne."
"Cool. Can you please not break my fingers? I kind of need them, because they're the ones that still work." I say, and she releases my hand instantly, chuckling, "Sorry, I tend to get a little excited sometimes. What happened to your arm?"
Damn. Me and my big mouth. "Um. . . nothing?"
"Nothing is not when you have your arm in a sling. Tell me." she orders, looking a tad menacing.
"Okay, okay! Don't kill me! My arm is just really weak, because that's where I've got cancer." I really hate it that my cancer is usually the first thing that strangers know about me. It really makes true relations tough, since they're always freaking out and worrying about me and showing pity or frightened sympathy, which pisses me off.
Her mouth falls open, which I expected, and she blinks slowly. Uh-oh, here goes the bombshell. "Oh. . . I'm so s-"
"It is so very important to your future that you not complete that sentence." I interrupt, narrowing my eyes. "I don't want your sympathy."
She raises her eyebrows. "Well, aren't we feisty this morning? Someone forgot to take their happy pills!" I laugh, despite myself, and she grins. "Problem solved, right? You want some gum?" She holds out some fruity Trident gum, and I take a piece. "Thanks."
"No problem." she responds, sitting down for takeoff. I like this girl already.