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Tony Stark (sansiron) wrote in silverage,
@ 2011-06-03 14:46:00

Entry tags:

!log, misty knight, tony stark

Who: Tony Stark and Misty Knight
What: "I am not your secretary or zookeeper."
When: Friday afternoon
Where: The Stark Mansion, Long Island.
Warnings: TBD?

Tony hadn't been into the office since Wednesday that week, which wasn't unusual of late. Not only did he hate wading through the throngs of protesters who had (in some cases literally) chained themselves to the front of the Stark Industries building, it was June and heading into the summer there was just very little actual work to do when it came to the running of his company. Tony felt (and the secretaries and assistants consequently spared his puttering around the office and making their jobs harder agreed) that his time was better spent at his Long Island home making sure that the summer cars were in tiptop shape for the coming season.

There was no doubt that he could have found something mechanical to tinker around with at the office, the Research and Development labs were expansive and there were never less than ten or so projects being developed. He could have grilled some poor scientist about what he was doing and why he was doing it that way instead of any other, but that eventually would have gotten boring. It was frustrating sometimes, having the engineering background that he did but being expected to do little more than actually overseeing the business side of the company. Without the lab out in Long Island, there was a very good chance he would have gone stir crazy a very long time ago.

Tony slid out from underneath his Ferrari 275. It was brand new, but that had never stopped him from making improvements to a car in the past. There was always something that could be done, even when faced with the near perfection of an Italian made engine. Set in that unwavering state of mind, Tony had decided that the perfect project for this first weekend in June was to take apart and rebuild the engine entirely. He'd cleared out a spot in the twenty car garage and set himself up with his tools, a bottle of whiskey, and a glass tumbler that had been down in the garage so long he wasn't entirely sure when the last time it had been properly cleaned in the kitchen was. He turned on the radio in the old Chevy a few cars down, but left it low. He didn't necessarily like the music, it was more about combating the silence-- something he hadn't been able to abide since his experiences in Vietnam which had been all too silent at times. He liked the allusion of being alone in the house with his thoughts more than the reality of it.

And that was why he wasn't alone-- well, that and the protesting women taking to chaining themselves to his building. His new bodyguard was in the house somewhere, and it occurred to him as the hour grew later that maybe it would be polite to find something that resembled dinner for the two of them. He had no house staff aside from three ladies that cleaned twice a week, so dinner was generally either forgotten (not unusual when he truly got into his work) or scrounged up from some quaint restaurant in one of the seaside towns in the area. Tony didn't really feel like doing the scrounging himself that evening, honestly preferring the company of his engines, but maybe between the two of them it would go faster.

Tony picked up a wrench and bellowed in no particular direction. "Misty!" The acoustics were decent throughout the house. She'd hear him.

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missknight
2011-06-04 01:25 am UTC (link)

Misty still wasn't used to being in the sixties, and why would she have been? She was just happy that there were few things she had to change about herself. Afros were technically in, but the size of hers was knowingly a bit new - it was also a pain in the ass to maintain without modern appliances. A basic wash and go was too troublesome for the length she'd arrived with, so she'd gotten her hair cut to something much more manageable and turned fewer heads. Trading in her usual jumpsuit didn't kill her either, happy to dress casually in the more comfortable and basic styles of the time, fading into the background (as she currently preferred) out of her signature bright red. The biggest thing she was having issues with was her attitude, which wasn't anything new - she had the same problem in her own time - being in the sixties just made it worse. Calling people out on their ignorance was pointless, and she was really trying to keep herself out of jail seeing as her usual bail out crew was nowhere to be found.

Fortunate for her that she didn't have too hard of a time finding Tony and securing some sort of employment. She wasn't quite sure why she was asked to come over that afternoon, but when she saw the state of the mansion - the state being way too open and accessible - she made her own work for herself. She'd lost track of time, not really remembering when she got there, and not sure how long she'd been at what she was doing, but it didn't really matter. The list of security risks she was finding throughout the place was getting longer with each turn of a corner, so long that she wondered if Tony ever took his safety into consideration at all. In comparison to 'her' Tony's home, and, really, her society, she was surprised he hadn't been burgled or worse. After a while, she stopped paying attention to all of the issues, realizing that he was going to need to do some serious work if he didn't want to have to worry about crazy people running up on his place - especially with the way things were going down at Stark Industries.

Her attention had settled on the decor, and how different it was from what she was used to. An obvious observation, she knew that, but all of it continued to catch her off guard. Every now and then she'd stop to study, trying to decide if the taste of this Tony corresponded to the other Tony, and usually it did. Bold graphic design, 'tasteful' pop art, and paintings that were obviously bought because someone else wanted them. The furniture was still sleek, the lighting a bit lower, but she chalked that up to technological reasons. The biggest problem was the mess. He was a bachelor without all of the toys 'her' Tony had following him around to clean up after him. His cleaning ladies probably deserved higher pay than what they were getting for the task they had whenever they came over.

Startled out of her distraction, Misty frowned immediately, her first thought harsh and irritated before remembering where and when she was. Her second reaction was to find a nearby comm panel - once again, she was disappointed. Sighing with frustration, Misty - with no haste - made her way to the garage, trying to ignore the intense urge to touch every single car she passed before coming to stand at the rear of the Ferrari. "You rang?"

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sansiron
2011-06-04 02:55 am UTC (link)

Tony was pouring himself another glass of whiskey when Misty finally made her way down to the basement. The glass tumbler was sticky on the side when he picked it up, but that was just to be expected. He'd yelled at the last cleaning lady he'd found dusting around in his garage and laps and neither of the three had been back down since. Nothing down here was particularly sanitary-- it wasn't like he was a biologist or anything. He lifted the glass to his lips anyway and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. The grease stain he left behind was more than enough to show what he'd been doing for the past few hours. The stained white undershirt he was wearing only added to the image.

"I love this car." The words were said to no one in particular once Misty had settled against the Ferrari and he'd savored the swallow of good whiskey. "The thing turns on a dime when it's running." He couldn't ever miss the way she eyed his cars with an obvious desire to get in and drive one.

It was taking him awhile to get used to the idea of Misty as a whole. It wasn't that he had ever refused a beautiful woman --he'd even been known to look twice at a women who looked like Misty before; they all looked good when they were in bunny ears down at the club-- but to actually employ a woman, and a black woman at that, as head of his security detail? This was new for him-- hell, it was probably new for any male who ran in his circles. But the fact was, she was good at what she did and somehow (he still didn't understand it) she had his technology attached to her torso. The arm was far more technologically advanced than anything he'd personally produced, but there were little details he recognised. The way the wires were tied off, the preference towards alloys... even the serial number, which was't one of his, but the number started with the same sequence of numbers he used. Then, of course, there was the Stark Industries logo stamped into the underside of the panel on the forearm. It was his; he couldn't explain it, but it was his.

She was walking around with his technology, she was good at her job, she claimed to know a future version of him, and she wasn't horrible to look at. Tony had enough reason to keep Misty around. "I was thinking about dinner," he said after another sip of whiskey. "Do you want something?"

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missknight
2011-06-04 01:38 pm UTC (link)

“I know.” The other Tony had the same car. The same color from the interior to the detailed paint job. The only different was that it had probably been rebuilt twenty more times than this one had – since it was practically brand new. But as automobile technology advanced in her time, he had excuse after excuse to take it apart and put it together again – the outcome always different and better functionally. And while it was a beautiful car, and she loved just about anything made by Italian hands, she was an American girl, and preferred an American built car. Her heart was aching a little to see the Shelby missing from his collection. Being 1964, she wouldn’t be debuted until the next year, and she assumed that was why her own Shelby hadn’t been parked in front of her apartment, replaced by an acceptable first gen Barracuda.

It was situations like this that seemed to make her more comfortable with him. Trying not to frown as she watched him drink, ignoring what she knew about the future and accepting it as the norm of the time, the pile up of personality flaws in front of her continued to reassure her that this was, in fact, Tony Stark. She was willing to bet that many of the cars in the garage were bought just because they could be, as opposed to being wanted. Limited editions, first off the line, show pieces. All attained because he could. Hard and fast traits of Tony Stark. He may have looked at her differently, or addressed her differently, but he was definitely some version of Tony.

After considering his question in silence, she finally shrugged, looking over the Ferrari, frowning at the greasy prints left behind from his recent work. “I suppose.” She wasn’t sure when she last ate, she was hungry, but not starving, and she hoped he hadn’t expected her to cook. Misty hardly did that for herself, and she doubted that there was anything edible in his underused kitchen. “What sort of dinner were you thinking about?”

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sansiron
2011-06-04 04:03 pm UTC (link)

"Something that's not going to take forever to get here." And by that he meant something that she wouldn't take forever to get here. Granted, they were sitting in front of several cars that did still run; he could have offered to drive them both into the hamlets surrounding the house. He could handle his whiskey quite well and driving wasn't out of the question just yet.

Tony put down the glass and picked up a cloth, already damp with oil and grease. He swept away an obvious glob from the car's fender before wiping his hands and tossing it back down onto his stool. "I'm playing around with the valves," he said, gesturing to the incomplete engine. "And then there's the fuel usage-- the patent for Chavvane's 'biodiesel' is up soon. Did you know that you can use vegetable oils to produce fuel?" Well, that was the simple explanation anyway, but it fascinated Tony. He was the only person he knew who gave much of a damn, but as a person who had a glowing piece of metal in his chest that kept him alive Tony had every reason to care about the development of new energy and fuel sources.

"What've you been doing?" he asked. "Like the house?"

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missknight
2011-06-04 05:44 pm UTC (link)

“I did, actually. And I’m sure you know there are a ton of other underused sources of cleaner energy like solar and wind.” She wasn’t breaking any weird time traveling rules, it was just the truth, and he probably did know.

“I’ve been checking the place for security risks.” She flipped through the small steno she’d been making notes in, shaking her head. “There are a lot. Which, considering your current situation, might be something you should look into changing soon.” She was used to high powered, supermax security in homes like his or Danny’s, but she had to keep reminding herself that technology doesn’t exist. She had to think in simpler terms that still produced quality security.

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sansiron
2011-06-06 09:05 pm UTC (link)

Tony's eyes may or may not have lit up when Misty mentioned solar power. She might have been from the future, but he was impressed that she'd even heard of solar power. As far as he was concerned, the only people who could even begin to comprehend the potential of solar power were the scientists down at NASA... and himself, of course. "Wind turbines are expensive, but solar power... A month of solar energy collected could run this house for a year. In theory." 'In theory' was the problem. They needed the technology to do it.

He pursed his lips when she started talking about the security issues. "What do you mean 'a lot'? The doors and windows are locked and I have a suit of iron in the basement that flies."

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missknight
2011-06-10 04:57 pm UTC (link)

“We have cars that run on solar power.” She was good at the time travel game, wasn’t she? “Alternative energy sources are common place where I come from. Still, even biodiesel is hardly used to its full potential. It’s kind of sad.” Misty was no tree hugger, but having witnessed the myriad of effects of careless legislation in parts of town the government doesn’t care too much about, the green movement wasn’t something she was afraid to speak up for.

Looking back down at her list, Misty did her best not to laugh as he argued the safety of his home. “How fast can you put that suit of armor on? And you’re not here all of the time, Tony. Locks don’t keep rocks from breaking windows. They don’t stop professional criminals, or even the more extreme of those protesters from getting into your digs.” That’s what she was most worried about. Not all protesters were extremist, she knew this well. But some people felt strongly about what they were standing up for and she never underestimated the lengths someone would go to in order to get their point across.

“Since we're lacking the sort of security technology I'm used to, it might be a good idea to keep someone here full time.” She was not volunteering, in any way at all.

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