Maria Collins Carbonell (mscarbonell) wrote in mandaluslogs, @ 2013-04-18 01:37:00 |
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Entry tags: | howard stark, maria collins carbonell |
I am the queen of the backlog
Who: Howard Stark patristark & Maria Carbonell mscarbonell
What: The night of Tony's drunken call to Howard. Later that night
Where: Howard's apartment
When: Late night 4/12
Rating: PG-13 for swearing probably
Notes: Momma and pappa Stark and a WHOLE lotta guilt.
It had taken Maria far too long to decide if she should visit Howard. She knew the man well enough to know that he would want some space to decompress and adjust to what he'd learned. Still, there was Tony, there was Stark Tower, there were any number of people who could send Howard straight into the place they didn't want him to go. So instead she decided to do a preemptive strike and take Howard out to see the boys play.
For the visit Maria chose a simple black dress with a wrap. The wrap hid the cast well and could continue to do so as long as she draped it over her arm. She hoped that things would stay calm enough so that Howard could become acclimated to this world before the ceiling came tumbling in. She had no idea that it had already done so.
When she reached his door she frowned, wondering once more if this was such a good idea. The man she knew so well was in his mid forties. He was much more settled and less daring in the sense of 'wine, women and song' then the Howard of thirty. She'd read so many stories about the ever popular Howard. The man who charmed every lady he'd come across. She didn't want to disappoint him … or worse, become one of those women that passed him in the night. If she was to have Howard Stark she would have him the same way she did in her right time. Mind, soul, and eventually (when he got around to actually asking) body. Even so, he needed a friendly face. Someone who he could take comfort in even if that face was thirty instead of seventeen. Perhaps she should have gone with pigtails instead of her normal evening attire. It certainly would have entertained Rabbit.
No, by this point she was already here, standing at the door and stalling like a ninny. It was now or never, knock, or run home like the terrified girl she really did feel, no matter what her outward appearance showed. Finally, she raised her good arm and carefully knocked.