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Ianto Jones (iantojones) wrote in silverage,

Stark Industries was just as massive as he'd thought it would be. Sprawling complex, office buildings, and based on the newspaper researched he'd managed to do (he missed the internet so much already), probably a research facility somewhere within its walls. It was remarkably like Torchwood One, and he ignored the tiny pang in his chest. This wasn't going to end like that had... he wouldn't sit by and allow it if it tried.

He'd managed to wash his suit in Jack's hotel room and dry it, but the cloth was still less than pristine. Not filthy, but there were a few more wrinkles than he'd like in the fabric, so he paused for a brief second and smoothed down his coat. He'd buy a new one once he had a salary... or a dozen, because based on this building he'd need to look bloody fantastic.

He spoke briefly to the skinny girl, noting she seemed rather nervous and high-strung, and waited for her to return.

It didn't take long, but her face held a slightly pinched expression that indicated she was not happy. Ianto smiled pleasantly at her and followed her to the lab, blue eyes taking in every inch of the building and cataloguing it all away. He created escape roots in his head, the quickest way outs... which windows would break most easily. Paranoid, yes, but necessary.

He kept that pleasant smile even as he walked into the room, coughing a bit at the smell. He noticed the secretary didn't follow him in, and he glanced back with a raised eyebrow. She swatted her hands, indicating he should keep on walking.

"Mr. Stark?" he asked, voice uncertain.