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Tony Stark (sansiron) wrote in silverage,

"...And that's how you balance a goddamned equation," Tony was saying to the other man as Ianto walked in. He'd moved away from the chalkboard during Florence's absence and was now standing in the corner that he'd designated as his own. There was a battered looking desk with a messy top, and a desk chair that had seen better days. Tony Stark did appreciate the finer things in life, yes, but when he was working none of that seemed to matter. As long as there was a place to sit and a drawer to store his whiskey, he didn't care what anything looked like.

There were two glass tumblers on the desk, but upon noticing Ianto, Tony took out a third. Any man he hired was going to be able to hold his liquor.

"Mr. Jones." Tony raised one of the glasses, filled with an appropriate amount of amber liquid. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice. Drink?" Anyone else might have apologised for the state of the room and perhaps his dress, but this was Tony Stark. He offered the glass and then walked back over to the board, a piece of chalk in one hand and whiskey in the other. "Welcome to my office."

"This is not your office," muttered the other doctor, having returned to his own desk space.

"My building, my office," Tony said. His hand was now hovering over the section of the board where someone had begun work on something that looked like a missile. "Mr. Jones, everyone in this building says I need a personal assistant. Some say 'zookeeper'. You say you have experience."