InsaneJournal

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.