I was frantically searching, before finally accepting what my eyes saw. I closed the door, sliding on the floor and leaning against the refrigerator.
There was no more orange juice. Someone was going to pay.
I heard footsteps approaching me.
"Are you okay?" I looked up to see Tony Stark with a concerned look on his face.
"Welcome to the world of the living" I said, trying to steady my breathing. "I'm just gathering my energy".
He raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
"I need to go to the corner store, to grab some orange juice."
He offered to go for me.
"No!" I said loudly. He jumped and I gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry, but I don't trust you Americans with my food."
He gave me a hurt look and I rolled my eyes. Twisting sideways, I opened a random cupboard and pulled out a box. Microwaveable popcorn.
"Hmmm, let's see", I turned the box over, reading the ingredients. "Corn kernels (genetically modified no doubt), salt, artificial butter flavouring, yellow no. 2-" Tony cut me off.
"Alright, alright, what if I went but you came with me?" I pondered this.
"Sure"
We went to the corner store and searched everywhere but there was no orange juice.
"It appears the world hates me today" I said dejectedly. Tony walked past me to the cashier.
"Excuse me", he said in a mannerly fashion. "Do you carry orange juice?".
"Ah yes" the cashier said. She was a small timid lady and seemed to struggle explaining where it was. Finally I realised that English wasn't her first language; she kept slipping into French.
"C'est bien, je peut parler français aussi!" I quickly realized that Tony had the exact same thing at the exact same time.
"You speak French?" he asked me in English. I gave him a look.
"Canadian, remember? How did you become a francophone?"
"Howard". He didn't elaborate further and I didn't ask him to.
The cashier, seemed pleased that we knew French. She quickly explained that she had grown up in France and had only recently moved to America. She was very worried that she would lose her job and was trying her hardest to learn English.
"Just try and listen more than talk, try to use hand gestures as much as possible".
I wrote on a piece of paper some common phrases in English and French. "Google is a magical thing" I told her, after she had directed us to the orange juice.
"Ah! My saviour! Merci!" We all walked back to the cash register.
"You have a very beautiful daughter" the cashier told Tony. He started coughing violently and I patted his back.
"He's not my father" I kindly explained.
"Sorry, you look very similar!"
What?
"Daughter?" Clint started laughing.
"They do look somewhat similar" said Bruce thoughtfully. Tony had explained our adventure while I was slowly sipping a glass of well earned orange juice.
"Yes!", started Clint. "Take Tony, turn him into a teenaged girl, then lock him in a dark room for ten years so he loses the tan and his hair becomes darker!"
"Thanks" I muttered, frowning.
"I kinda see it, except for the eyes" Tony said. His eyes were brown, while mine were a bright blue.
"Mavis", Bruce asked. "You said you learned French in Canada but I thought you had never gone to school?"
"Hmm" I said swallowing a mouthful of juice. "My friend Harley taught me". Tony looked at me with wide eyes.
"Harley? Harley Keener?" I nodded.
I tried my best American accent. "My dad went to go buy scratch cards; guess he won because that was 6 months ago."
"It's a small world. I thought he lived in Tennessee?" Tony asked.
"He moved, obviously". Clint was staring at me with a hurt expression.
"Americans do not sound like that!" He said angrily.
"Actually, her accent was quite accurate" Bruce said.
At this moment Natasha and Steve walked in with a thin ginger between them. Natasha ran to us with a fierce expression on her face.
"Nat?" Clint started before Natasha had turned Tony around.
On his back, there was a black spider-like device. A bomb.