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?"