A big thank-you to everyone who's commented! you're all so totally awesome. And happy Winter/Summer Solstice, where ever you are in the world :D
Cinna
Part One: Great Expectations
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Other Welcoming Committee
Confirmation that Earth's newest arrival is Draco Malfoy does not go down well.
Or at least, Tony presumes it doesn't go down well, because really, once he'd made Queeny and Greenbean aware of the situation, the latter had laughed heartily and promptly stolen an entire bottle of whiskey from Tony's kitchen alcohol stash and the former had shut down and locked herself away in her bedroom. Jarvis had reported concerns over a large amount of shouting and the sound of breaking glass on floor 89 not long after that. Harry- who was halfway through his second glass already- gleefully told him not to worry, because of course they had magic, and magic made everything better; and it was unlikely that Hermione would break the glass wall of her bedroom, and even less likely that she would fall to her death. Tony chooses to take comfort in the giggled words instead of growing alarm.
The wizard had then taken a swig straight out of the bottle; ignoring the half-full glass now sitting on the kitchen bench, and the fact that it was only ten in the morning. Tony couldn't help but be impressed that the kid-who-wasn't-actually-a-kid didn't so much as flinch as the alcohol went down.
In all honesty, it could have been worse; either could have shot someone, or tried to pick a fist fight with Thor. And you know, at least Hermione hadn't started breaking things in the living area, where he'd be obliged to put a stop to it- probably by sticking himself between her wand and the closest breakable thing (which is not really something he'd like to do). And apparently there was a spell to fix things, so damage to her room would probably only be minimal.
Even so, something tells him it's not the best of reactions for the pair. Not that he blames them, really. Universe transplants are likely to do a number on you psychologically.
Not that that's going to stop him from morbidly wondering what this Malfoy guy is like, if his sudden appearance could elicit such a response from the pair. Judging from the shouts Jarvis is still reporting from Hermione's bedroom, it must be bad. Though honestly, Queenie had been rearing for a fight (in as much as the level-headed witch could be, which was really not much by Avenger's standards) ever since they'd come back from Scotland- all that frustration and disappointment had been stewing in her, obvious to any with eyes that could see. She'd tried to hide it, but he hadn't missed how she'd not been her dry and witty self; not since they went out looking. He'd found it mildly concerning, and maybe just a little disappointing. Malfoy had been the metaphorical icing on the bullshit-cake. It was probably best to have her let the aggravation out now before she did shoot someone.
"I haven't seen him in almost six years." Harry remarks suddenly. Tony glances at him, startled. He hadn't expected the man to talk. Harry shrugs- any signs on his imminent inebriation absent.
"He was a prat. A sharp and pointy, pigheaded and elitist prat. But… he'd mellowed." Tony leans against the kitchen bench, stealing his commandeered bottle of liquor to take a swig of his own (speaking from his own experience/s, there was nothing sadder than a man drinking on his own but surrounded by friends… or colleagues in Harry's case. Tony isn't sure if they could call them friends yet) as Steve moves over to sit in the stool next to the wizard. Harry carries on, "The war changed him. Not really surprising- it changed all of us. But I didn't want to strangle the git as much, which was a marked improvement."
He sends Tony a knowing look that tells him nothing. He offers the wizard the bottle of whiskey. Greenbean snorts lightly, staring into the amber liquid contemplatively.
"His parents were Death Eaters; they encouraged him to join their ranks just before the real war broke out. He was a bigoted dick- but he'd been told about Mudbloods," he spits the word out bitterly, like it's got some personal meaning, "and Muggles since he was a child. He didn't know any better. But he wasn't a killer, or a-a torturer, or a rapist or any of those other things the rest of Voldemort's pets were. Just some dumb rich-boy dragged into his parent's war like the rest of us."
Steve frowns as Harry takes another deep drink of liquor. His eyes are slowly gaining the familiar listless glaze of drunkenness and his head seems to pivot slightly on his neck, like child about to fall asleep. His voice remains clear.
"We last met at some charity function, before everything went to hell. The Ministry had seized most of his family's accounts after the war but he'd been slowly creeping his way back up the rich-list as soon as his restrictions were lifted… He wasn't as confrontational. Still looked at us like we were something gross… or stupid- come to think of it- but there were no insults. Or hexes. Or threats. Just a softened superiority complex; nothing I couldn't handle- there were plenty of those kinds of idiots left after the war."
He laughs- there's a slightly manic edge to it. Steve tugs the bottle gently out of his hands in concern.
"I think that's enough." He says lowly and Harry laughs again, slapping the super-soldier on the back.
"T'ss fine!" Greenbean answers dismissively, "Did you know- he even shook Hermione's hand?! Merlin, I thought she was going to faint! Or punch him… again."
Tony lets out a startled laugh. The image of Hermione punching someone is… well it's pretty cool, actually. And kind of hot too.
"Not his biggest fan?"
"Nooo." Harry snickers, hair falling into his eyes as he laughs, "There was a lot of animosity running between them in school. Almost more than there'd been between me. She punched him in third year," he murmurs in a conspiratory tone. Steve smiles in amusement.
"He congratulated her on her position in the Unspeakable's department. She'd been bumped up to one of the project leaders the year before. Heh- I think she was torn between thanking him and interrogating him for how he knew. Had this smarmy smile on his face the whole time, like he knew something she didn't. Kind of think it's a reflex reaction more than anything though."
"Do you think he's a threat?" Steve is frowning lightly, trying to gauge the situation from the information the wizard was freely giving.
Harry shakes his head- aborts- pauses, then shrugs, "I doubt it… I mean, he saved us. Granted; his idea of saving us was throwing us into what most people would think was a one way ticket to the afterlife, but I kind of think he knew what it really was. And he could have just left us there for dead- there was no obligation for him to help us, but he did anyway. And I think that has to be worth something."
Steve smiles like he's found himself a kindred spirit. Sweet.
"Not," Harry states, eyes sliding over to the whiskey the Capsicle is still holding onto, "that that is going to stop me from beating the ever-living shit out of him first."
Tony barks in laughter and Steve sends him a disapproving stare, "I don't think that would be the most appropriate option."
He laughs again. Trust Captain Boy-Scout, "I have a feeling he'd have to wait for Queenie to finish with him first."
Steve frowns in confusion, which momentarily confuses Tony too until he realises that he hadn't told anyone about the temper tantrum currently happening downstairs. He smirks at the blonde, "Her room isn't taking the news well."
Harry hides his grin behind his ridiculous fringe (and seriously, what was it with magic users and bad hair? Maybe it was genetic) as he snickers, "Yeaahh… I don't think it's been a good week for her so far. Also- totally sounded like a pervert there."
Tony just wiggles his eyes suggestively. Harry grimaces, "God- not Hermione. That's just weird. I mean, it took us like four years to realise she was even a girl."
Tony shrugs. It wasn't weird for him to joke about- no pseudo-sibling relationship to worry about there.
"That's…" Steve screws his face up in perplexity, "kind of sad."
Harry makes a shrug with his face (because that is totally a thing, Tony decides), "She was our best friend. Gender just hadn't come into it until then." And on that note, he makes grabby hands at the whiskey bottle in a bid for more alcohol.
Steve pulls it further away, though Tony can tell he's amused by the childish gesture, "Maybe you should wait until it hits p.m. before you drain the entire bottle."
Harry bristles, affronted, "I, am a wizard. Are you saying you don't think I can hold my liquor?"
Steve snorts, half his face twitched upwards in amusement, "Harry," he says, smirking, "I know so."
Harry's mouth forms a little 'o' in surprise, before closing as he takes the challenge head on. His green eyes turn positively evil, which can only spell fun for the two of them. Tony's hand strays to the tumbler glasses sitting underneath the bench. To hell with it only being ten in the morning. It was two p.m. somewhere.
"You, Mister Rogers, have no idea what you've gotten yourself in."
Tony and Harry are prevented from getting hammered by the entrance of Hermione twenty minutes later. She appears unimpressed (but far less stressed, which is a relief) by their raucous laughter and the pervading smell of alcohol surrounding the trio. Steve is (naturally, the bastard) not even remotely inebriated, but has the gall to appear sheepish in the face of the witch's glare. Tony and Harry had taken to elaborately insulting his high metabolism in an attempt to get back at him for his sobriety; good-natured Steve just took it all in his stride, pouring them another glass (which Tony actually suspects he may have watered down at some point, because it doesn't seem to be having as much of an effect as the first few glasses had) in an unspoken challenge (which, in retrospect, probably wasn't one of Capsicle's greatest ideas).
Tony simultaneously hates and respects him for it.
Hermione, apparently, did not.
Wordlessly, she takes the half-empty bottle (still only number one, Tony might add. It was still the middle of the day, after all) and pours it down the kitchen sink. Tony watches the amber liquid- which admittedly hadn't been all that good anyway- splash unceremoniously onto the brushed aluminium surface in despair. He sends her a devastated look but she appears unsympathetic.
"It's not even midday yet."
"It is somewhere."
"But not here." She conjures three glasses of water with her wand and slides them over with a twitch of her too-thin wrist, "You can't afford to be drunk- any of you." She gives Harry a pointed glance and he shifts in his stool sheepishly, "Malfoy will be in New York by this afternoon and we're his welcoming committee. Director Fury would crucify you if any of you came in drunk."
Tony pouts childishly at her, "How would you know, Queenie? I'd have thought he'd prefer the classic hung, drawn and quartered."
She smirks, eyes sparking, "I have my sources."
Steve frowns, staring up at Hermione with his sharp eyes, "They're not bringing him to the Tower."
Hermione snorts, "No, lucky for him."
"They're taking him to SHIELD's New York centre of command." Tony interjects helpfully. Agent Hill had told him when she'd informed them of 33690's identity. Hermione nods primly.
"Yes. Which if Jarvis is correct, means we have a trip to the subway to attend."
Tony wrinkles his nose at the though. He'd had bad experiences with the New York subway system. Not to mention it meant travelling incognito; again.
"There are other ways to get into the New York branch, you know." Hermione sends a smile at the form of Natasha, materialising out of bloody no-where. Harry almost falls off his chair in shock.
"Bloody hell!" He gives Hermione a glare that would probably be more effective if he lost the glasses (and gained some sobriety, come to think of it), "Have you been practicing on her?"
Queenie raises an eyebrow, "Not recently."
"I'm just that good," Natasha smirks, leaning across the bench to grab an apple. Harry scowls as he climbs back onto his stool.
"Drink your water." Hermione says before he can make a comment. A pointed look tells Tony that her order counted for the both of them. Her striking resemblance to Pepper- despite the differences in hair colour, skin tone and choice in footwear- rears its ugly head and he complies to avoid the inevitable feelings of strangled affection that follows.
Satisfied, the witch turns back to her female companion, "There are other ways?"
Romanoff nods smugly, "There's other entrances- for more practical purposes- detainees, vehicles… you know the like. But the subway entrance is by far the coolest. Most New York agents use it."
"So I'm guessing Malfoy's not taking the Tube?"
"No."
"Well, the subway it is then."
Tony frowns at Queenie for a moment, "Don't we get any say in this?"
She glances at the now empty bottle, "I think you've already forfeited that right. Besides," she sends him a smile that's temporarily blinding, "I want to see the differences between the American and British undergrounds."
Well… he can't really fault her there. Especially not when she smiles at him like that.
"Which means-" the glasses refill with another flick of her wand- and seriously Tony is never going to get sick of that because bloody hell but isn't it just the coolest thing ever, "-get sober, and get sober fast. Or I will make you sober. And you won't like it- just ask Harry."
Steve's head swivels over to the wizard and Greenbean winces at the threat, "Sobriety spells are the worst."
"They are. So, drink up." Hermione smiles at them sweetly, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Tony wants to wipe the insincere thing off her face- it's oddly disturbing to see such a fake thing on her usually genuine face. Especially after the one she'd sent them just before.
With that she turns around, striding over to the tv area and Tony doesn't ever try to stop his eyes from straying down to the elegant sway of her hips in those expensive jeans (she'd tried to go for the cheapest brands available apparently, but Romanoff had threatened to set them on fire if she did). She has nice legs- elegant and shapely, though a bit on the short side- and she's been slowly putting on weight; though most of her clothes are still slightly ill-fitting.
When he finally tears his probably inappropriate gaze from Hermione's arse, his eyes are drawn to Natasha instead. She's staring at him with a shrewd expression that immediately puts him on edge. That look says 'I know and I'm not afraid of using it against you.' Or at least, that's what it's saying to his overly paranoid mind. What she knows, Tony can only guess at, because if he's honest with himself, he's not even sure of what he knows. Hermione's been dwelling in the corners of his mind for the past week, in a way that he's so far been unable to pin down. It's been unsettling him for days now.
As if mocking him, Nat takes another bite of her apple, her irritatingly astute eyes still glued on him, before smirking and turning to follow Hermione. She throws herself onto the couch next to the brunette with more grace than any human should really possess. Predictably, the tv flicks onto the discovery channel- Queenie's favourite.
Tony checks his watch; roughly seven hours until Malfoy would arrive in New York. More than enough time to get any alcohol out of his system- not that he would have argued that fact with Queenie- not today at any rate. He wouldn't put it past her to tear him a new one just for looking at her funny. Malfoy's appearance, coupled with the evidence (or lack thereof) they'd found in Britain had put her in a shittier mood than ever since last night. It was at the point where he didn't know if he should feel concerned or relieved that she appeared relatively calm and friendly now after her temper tantrum not even an hour ago. He hopes she at least fixed everything she'd broken.
Potentially bipolar witches aside, seven hours is more than enough time to do some experiments. He'd been itching to get some proper readings on Harry and Hermione for over a week now, but the opportunity had never really presented itself. There were too many other things to be addressed. But right now… now was the perfect time to poke and prod at Harry- and take his mind off the impending meeting with pale and pointy Malfoy to boot. Ideally, Hermione was the better subject- for one she had a working wand- but Harry at least was less liable to ask questions all the time.
He grins as he stands. Harry and Steve watch him warily, "Greenbean."
"Mmm?" Harry answers cautiously.
"Have I ever shown the R and D Candyland?" He stares at Tony like he's just sworn at him in Russian.
"I don't even know what R and D stands for."
Steve snorts in amusement and slaps the man on the back. The touch has more force than the super-soldier realises and Harry lurches forward in surprise (or maybe it's just that Harry is a wimp- because really, the man's skinny as a reed and Steve's used to companions who fight monsters for a living). Tony laughs at his startled scowl and grabs him by the arm.
"Come on magic-boy. There is much I have to show you." Harry smiles at the voice Tony puts on in mockery and stands. Tony grins in victory- Greenbean wouldn't know what was coming to him, "Jarvis, find me Bruce. There's drunk science to be made and it can't be done alone."
"Yes sir," comes the ever-faithful- if resigned- answer.
One of the most beautiful things about New Yorkers, Tony's found over the years, is that everyone tends to mind their own business. For a celebrity billionaire come superhero, the modern day aversion with eye-contact and stranger interaction is like discovering the alcohol is free at an ex's wedding. Couple that with the everyman's growing enthrallment with touch-screen phones, and travelling anonymously is made laughably easy.
Even in close-contact scenarios like the subway, you're more likely to find the person next to you five levels deep on Candy Crush or guiltily flicking through the electronic pages of Fifty Shades of Grey than come across someone who even bothers to looks up from the microcosm they call their world. Which- far from being a sad example of the times- makes it way easier to go unnoticed; a plus for the Avengers and Co, because whilst Tony (and to a lesser extent Steve) is used to the attention his face often gets, the others find that the masses of adoring fans makes them jumpy- and trigger happy. And then there was the whole 'keep the stateless magic users anonymous' thing Fury had going on, which Tony thinks is mostly a ploy to ensure that they're not discovered and snapped up by some other agency or organisation before SHIELD manages to coerce them into its jurisdiction and or clutches.
Fury, Tony suspects, takes the 'Finders-keepers' rule very seriously.
They'd made sure to be smart about it today. Even with the high concentration of candy crushers, the likelihood of being noticed was dangerously and inconveniently high. Thor and Birdbrain were remaining at the tower, but the rest of them were going in; in various capacities. Tony and the Capsicle- the most recognisable of their group- were wearing what Hermione had affectionately named hobo haute couture; complete with ratty fingerless gloves, non-descript but equally worn hooded jackets, and in Tony's case, a cotton scarf to wrap around his neck and conceal his goatee. Tony is sweltering in the get-up, and the New York's subway systems aren't exactly known for their mild climates. Steve, on the other end of the carriage (they'd made sure to separate themselves to dilute any attention) looks like he's faring only a little better, but even from here Tony can see the thin sheen on sweat forming on his brow from the oppressive heat.
Bruce- unlikely to be recognised as his alter ego- stands with Harry, Hermione and Natasha in the middle of the carriage, dressed in enviously casual and cool-looking clothes and Tony has been battling with the irrational urge to set him on fire for the last minute and a half. It didn't seem fair that he had to stand there, alone and about to undergo some heat-stroke induced hallucinations, next to some middle-aged woman who was definitely reading some modern equivalent of a mills and boon novel on her phone, when his friend got to stand there, talking amiably with the trans-dimensional travellers, looking for all the world like the air-conditioning in the carriage was actually functioning.
A lesser man would have probably snapped.
Or at least, that's what he's telling himself, because honestly he's feeling shittier by the second, and there's a rapidly growing grudge festering in the pit of his stomach at Hermione for insisting that they take the fucking subway entrance into SHIELD HQ in the first place, which is probably not a good thing. Tony vows to get her back tonight when they get home. Rigging the hot water system, maybe. Or confiscating all the watermelon from the kitchen. That would probably put her in a right snit.
The carriage lurches to the left unexpectedly and he lurches into Lady Softcore Porn Reader. She glances at him momentarily, but says nothing, avoiding eyes which must look half crazed by now. He doesn't bother to apologise. His voice may have given something away anyway. She was probably a fangirl. Fangirls knew these kinds of things.
Natasha had told them to get off at the twelfth stop- he hadn't bothered remembering the name of the station. Tony had been counting them off in his head though, desperately wishing that it would hurry the fuck up, because he didn't even want to think about what he was going to smell like by the end of this.
Eight. Hermione laughs softly at something Bruce says. Harry grins, and the scientist's eyes crinkle at the corners in self-satisfied amusement.
Nine. Steve wipes the sweat from his face, fluffing his faux dirtied shirt surreptitiously in an attempt to get some airflow.
Ten. The train lurches to a stop without warning and Harry crashes into Hermione. Bruce steadies her with a hand at her bad shoulder. She flinches backwards, biting back a cry. A man sitting down watches her reaction with concern over his newspaper but says nothing. She waves away their apologies a moment later, pale-faced but smiling.
Eleven. Natasha catches his gaze- like he wouldn't know which one to get off at. Softcore Porn Lady gets off, smoothing down the back of her skirt self-consciously. A girl with headphones playing music far too loudly takes her place.
Twelve. Tony stands to the side of the doors. Pretending to ignore Bruce and Co, who have moved to stand behind him. The train stops and the doors slide open and Tony stumbles out of the carriage desperately seeking cool air and finding no respite. In resignation he moves over to the vending machine Nat had told them to wait by. He runs a hand through sweaty hair and grimaces. He feels disgusting; summer is only ever good for sunbathing and bikinis, in his strong opinion.
Steve is next to him seconds later, and they share a mutual look of misery. Natasha and her entourage join him not long after as the last of the commuters move up the stairs.
"Don't make me do that again." Are the first words out of his mouth as they reach them, "Do have any idea how hot those things are? I was dying."
Hermione gives him and Steve a look of sympathy, "I could cool you down, if you'd like?" She offers tentatively, unsure of their reactions, "It's only a simple spell."
Tony stares at her for a moment, balancing his options. He could easily say yes and accept the help she's offering, but… his pride is reluctant. Irritatingly so. Hermione shifts uncomfortably beneath his gaze, eyes sliding off to the left at the extended stare. The sentiment is stupid, really, but part of him wants to prove that he doesn't have to say yes, even if it would probably improve his mood. Prove that things don't have to be done with magic, because something tells him Hermione and Harry are used to relying on it a whole lot. And sure, there'd not exactly been a chance for Avengers Initiative to use their magic much, but there's this niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him if they were to say yes to every offer either of them made to make their lives easier, he and his teammates would become frighteningly dependant on the pair. And that's not a scenario he'd like to contemplate.
"I'm fine," he says finally, hoping the pause hadn't gone on for too long to make it weird, "Thanks. I'm happy to just complain." He gives her a smirk to allay her concerns/suspicions.
"If you're sure. Steve?" She sounds doubtful, and just a bit surprised, but Harry is watching the exchange with sympathetic eyes. The blonde smiles disarmingly and shakes his head.
"It's not that bad, really."
"If you insist…" Tony doesn't miss the way Hermione seems put out that she couldn't help, and he can't stop the strange mix of uncomfortableness and pride at doing so. Natasha smiles at her reassuringly and pushes past them all to get to the vending machine.
Tony raises an eyebrow, "Feeling peckish?"
"No."
He puts two and two together and groans, "Please don't tell me that's where you get the visitor passes."
Because God, but that just seemed too stereotypical of SHIELD.
"It's how you get your visitor passes." Tony wants to cringe at the predictability of SHIELD; hiding things in plain sight stopped being surprising when you did it all of the time.
Natasha ignores his grievances and casually places her hand on the glass adjacent to the operation panel. She presses in her code languidly, like she's done it a million times an in response a bar slides out from inside the glass. The palm scanner moves from the tip of her fingers to the edge of her palm, its small laser sensor barely visible. There's a clunk of machinery from inside, which Tony can only assume is a good thing.
State number of visitors
X #
The account indicator reads and he valiantly resists the urge to roll his eyes. Natasha may be facing away from him, but she's heard him roll them before. It didn't end well. She enters 4#. There's an extended pause, then the tell-tale sound of several hard and thing objects clattering to the floor of the take-out compartment.
She kneels to pull out four plastic MetroCards, "These are only valid for the next ten minutes," she says quietly, passing them along. Hermione and Harry study the cards curiously, "So it's best not to dawdle."
She leads them up the stairs into the station's atrium. People rush through the area, content in ignoring those around them in favour of going places with limited time. Which is useful for SHIELD's purposes. To the right of the platform is a set of turnstiles that offer entrance to another set of stairs and the metal doors of a lift. There are no signs around to indicate their purpose, and most travellers walk straight past without batting an eye.
The signs on the machines say they are out of order; Romanov ignores them, striding over to them without fanfare, and suddenly the passing out of the MetroCards makes perfect sense. She hovers her hand over the red LED X. It turns green a moment later and she passes through the barrier unheeded. Tony suspects they're using an infrared palm-reader. They analysed the veins in the hand, ignoring the traditional process of recording hand and fingerprints.
Steve copies Natasha's actions- his reading would already be in the agency's database, given he was an actual employed agent/specialist of SHIELD and all that (why is beyond Tony. They may have pulled him from the ice and defrosted him, but that didn't mean that he was obliged to work for them because of that). Tony fingers the MetroCard, eyeing the magnetised strip. They were obviously designed to be used as the equivalent of temporary security passes, allowing access to SHIELD via the subway entrance. Bruce has figured the same thing- he can see it in the small smirk that quirks at his lips, but Hermione and Harry seem slightly wary. Tony pins it down to the fact that they don't know the purpose of the MetroCards.
"Like this," Tony says to the pair, pretending that he's done this a million times before. He waves the card in front of them and steps towards the turnstiles, sliding the magnetised strip through the slot on top. The X turns green and he grins in victory. Queenie is right behind him, as sharp as ever. She eyes the lift speculatively as she copies Tony and glides through the turnstile.
"Easy as pie." He can't help but quip.
"Mmm," she replies absentmindedly, still staring at the lift. A small smile touches her lips when Harry and Bruce come through, "Don't you think it's like the Ministry?" She asks, turning to the wizard, "Hiding in plain sight for all to see?"
Greenbean grins, "Yeah, it was just like them to do this sort of thing." He nods to Steve, who'd been more than keen in hearing stories about their old life, "The visitor's entrance for the Ministry used to be this old phone booth. You had to squeeze inside with your visitors and out would come these little badges. Then whoosh-" he makes a swooshing motion with his hands and Steve smiles, "-the booth drops down like a bloody bullet! I thought it was awesome when I was fifteen… or at least-" he frowns slightly, "- I did in hindsight."
"Great story that, but can you leave it for another time?" Natasha calls from inside the elevator. She holds an arm between the doors to stop them from closing. They move inside quickly.
"It's more comfortable." Hermione remarks when they're inside. It's not particularly spacious with six people in Tony's opinion, but he puts in down to low standards.
"Even when they upgraded the entrances it was cramped as buggery in the Ministry." Steve snorts in amusement as Natasha presses the button for the third floor. The doors slide shut silently and the elevator drops down.
So SHIELD NYC was an underground base? That, Tony had to admit, was kind of cool- in a kitsch kind of way. He probably should have known that already, in reality, but he'd never been bothered to look it up. There were better things to do with his time, like digging up SHIELD's dirty little secrets or daring Thor to see how many Twinkies he could eat in three minutes- for science, of course.
They move down slowly- Tony can hear the gears clunking in the walls- but it seems that as the door closed, so did his companion's desire to talk. The cramped space falls into an excruciating level of awkward silence, with everyone valiantly trying to avoid each other's gaze. If it weren't for the fact that the silence was ridiculously oppressive, he would have started laughing. This was why he had Jarvis play his music in all the lifts of his tower.
The elevator stops and the doors open before he can say something stupid.
Shitty ending, but it was the best place to cut it off at. Next chapter has the most charming reunion.
See you in a fortnight.