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The executive floor is a *bit* more muted than the other floors, still with the bright windows, but more tasteful carpeting in slightly quieter hues. No one gets up here without the downstairs secretary authorizing them, so there isn't the mass of people coming and going like on other levels. No, when the elevator opens for Henry Pym, he'll just see another lab coated scientist heading down the hall, an open lobby area, and a neat little desk near the office's outsides with a perky redhead behind it. Pepper is currently caught up in her own work — namely reading the Wall Street Journal. When she's not handling actual office business, her studies never cease. The expression on her face might be the most 'disappointing' thing about this secretary — She actually looks to be concentrating. She might, goodness forbid, be smart.
*
There is nothing wrong with smart women, in Hank Pym's personal opinion. He's not sure he'd want to marry one, but for day to day interactions? The smart ones have the more interesting things to say. He is not disappointed to see that the lovely Miss Potts is concentrating on her reading — though, as he approaches from the elevator, he knows he'll have to disturb her. He clears his throat as he comes close to the desk. "Excuse me, miss. I've got a meeting with…" He pulls a letter from a pocket of his lab coat. "I'm afraid I can't read the name. Somebody has -terrible- handwriting." He brandishes the letter to let Pepper try and translate.
*
Immediately, almost a moment before he clears his throat, sharp blue eyes jerk up from her paper and a warm smile spills across pink, glossy lips. At least she can be lovely AND smart. Sometimes, it seems unfair. "Ah… if they sent you up here, that's probably Anthony Stark. Mr. Stark isn't quite back from lunch yet… But if you had any questions, I could answer them. Or… get coffee? Scotch? A cigar?" Pepper then looks back down to her appointment book, lips pressing into a bit of a smirk. "… let me guess, you met him at a bar. He doesn't have it in the calendar." She doesn't look surprised at his lack of book keeping. More so, apologetic.
*
"The Metropole," Pym admits, taking a moment to admire the lovely face before him. Say what one will about Tony Stark — the man has great taste in secretaries. "To be honest, I should probably have realized. I'd had a fair amount of scotch, though. Coffee would be wonderful — thank you." He pulls a pipe from the breast pocket of his labcoat. "I'm Henry Pym. We'd discussed…" A pause. His brow furrows slightly. "Well, something I'd invented, I'm sure. I hope he has better memory of the conversation than I do."
*
"…Don't bank on it, Mr. Pym. But I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually." Pepper offers her hand in his direction for a firm shake, "Pepper Potts. It's good to meet you." Her hand shake is proper, not flirtatious, and a pretty good bit of strength behind it. Despite the shortness of her skirt, she actually does seem to have more than some business sense about her. Once they've finished shaking hands, she comes around the desk, showing off just how short her skirt is an how long her stockinged legs are. "Coffee it is, How do you take it?"
*
Pym shakes her hand in turn, bemused. Not what a man expects from a secretary's handshake. When she comes around the desk his eyes (of course) are drawn to her legs. But that was part of the design, wasn't it? "Cream and sugar, thank you," he replies as he starts to pack his pipe with fresh tobacco. If he's going to have to wait for the man, he may as well enjoy a smoke. And pipes smell so much better than any of the alternatives, in his opinion. "It was probably the miniaturization technology I've been working on," he concludes, eyes still following stockinged legs around the room. He needs to convince his research assistants to wear that sort of outfit.
*
Pepper's legs are only enhanced by the bright white shoes that she wears, platform heels, a nice compliment to the lime green of her dress that is covered by a white jacket. It's certainly a business look, but she could probably pull the jacket off and head out to a club tonight. From the bump in her hair, she might just be that sort of gal too. She heads over to a gleaming modern pot that, after the push of a few buttons, begins filling the room with the scent of fresh coffee. It must be new technology. "Miniturization? That's…interesting. What sort of miniturization? Of… organic people or inorganic objects?"
*
"Oh, primarily the inanimate," says Pym, who has not advertised to anyone — even his graduate assistants — his experiments with Pym particles on himself and other living things. In large part because somebody might be tempted to use the reverse particles upon themselves. And that gets… messy.
"But even simply being able to shrink the inorganic," he continues, "can be extremely handy. I never need to worry about a parking space." He inhales the scent of the coffee deeply. "Heavenly brew," he observes before putting a lighter to his pipe.
*
"…You *currently* never need to worry? Or hope to never need? If you already have this technology functional, I am *more* than certain that Tony will be interested. Hell…" Pepper states with a slightly husky, warm laugh, "Knowing Tony, even if it's not, he'll be interested, in truth. What are your credentials? I'd have briefed myself if I knew you were coming, forgive me…" Pepper cannot hide the intelligence from her voice, half interviewing him as much as she is making small talk. And coffee. Of course she's making his coffee.
*
Here Pym cannot help but smile, his grin stretching practically from ear to ear. He tugs an ashtray to the corner of her desk and sets his pipe on it before fumbling in one pocket of his coat. There it is. He sets what appears to be a Matchbox car beside the ashtray — a Nash Rambler. Nothing fancy. But one might notice the dent along the passenger side fender. That certainly didn't come with any die-cast model. "I've got PhDs in biology and chemistry from Empire State University," he says, "and teach a class about every other semester. And I have eliminated the need to pay for parking."
*
"PhDs? I'm sorry, Doctor. I should have been addressing you properly." Pepper genuinely seems a bit apologetic for that, a touch embarrassed. She finishes making his cup of coffee — and it does smell divine — and then she carries that over to his side and offers it. Perfect mixture of sugar and cream. She makes a mean coffee. She's then scooping up that die-cast model, narrowing her eyes a bit more as she studies the thing. Her elegant fingertips run across the sides, the bottom, the heft of the thing… It's a few long heartbeats but then she looks over the windshield of the car to him. "This… is your car."
*
"It's not an issue," says Pym, waving his hand in dismissal. "I'm somewhat informal even with my assistants. And it's not as though I introduced myself as Doctor Pym." How would she have known? His smile grows even more broad as she inspects the car. "I've been meaning to trade up. It's already five years old." Which should be confirmation enough. It is, indeed, his car. He takes the coffee, blows on it, takes a long swallow. "Very good," he says. "Thank you."
*
Howard has arrived.
*
The woman stares over the car for a few heartbeats. Pepper is so delicate with it, now that she actually realizes how real that car is. "…Aren't you worried it will get… Broken? Wouldn't the glass and the moving parts be far more delicate at this size? Goodness, I'm worried about breaking off your rear view mirrors!" Pepper wouldn't handle a BABY this carefully, but now the car is, ginger as can be, set back down next to the ash tray. "…It's still a very nice car."
*
"I try not to keep objects in that pocket that might cause it damage — but really, it's still fairly durable." He gives the windshield a sharp tap with his fingernail — it does not break. "Amazing, the things we come up with these days."
*
The redhead almost jumps out of her skin as she sees him tap on the glass with his fingernail, "Your car!" She half squeals — perhaps a BIT overprotective. She can't have worked here that long, getting worked up over such a gesture. But, then the car is fine. She releases a breath, one hand resting against her chest and galloping heart. "…It… alright then. Well. That… that's… quite impressive, Dr. Pym. Really… goodness." She clears her throat, taking in another deep breath and moving back to her desk.
*
and as if on cue, speaking of the things people invent these days there's a familiar flying car hovering just outside of the window. In the front seat Howard with a thick pair of sunglasses, a bowling jersey with matching jacket behind the wheel. His own drivers gloves gripping onto the wheel as he looks in through the window.
*
"I stress-tested less valuable things long before I realized how much I'd save on parking," Pym says. "I occasionally make questionable choices in my research — but I'm not fool enough to risk something so valuable that way, Miss Potts, I assure you." He nonetheless picks the car up once more and tucks it away before reclaiming both pipe and coffee mug. "I might propose it as a good alternative to city parking in general, if I weren't sure the city would be upset about the reduction in its reve…" He trails off as the flying car shows up at the window. Really, it's somewhat less impossible than his growing and shrinking car — but it's still unexpected.
*
"…what…the hell…" Pepper breathes out, very happy that she's not holding his car any more, or his coffee, because anything in her hands would be promptly dropped to the floor as she sees Tony's father outside the window in that CAR. Flying. She's just stammering now, trying to shake it off, looking between Howard, then Henry, back to Howard. "…I… don't think this is normal… around here. I don't know. Really. I just started two weeks ago…" And then she's dashing half to the window and points to the other side, mouthing 'HELICOPTER PAD'. Which is on the opposite side of this floor, to be fair.
*
Howard gives a friendly smile of pure white teeth caught off by the light of day. He bends forward a bit messing around with a few levers and switches before he starts to tap at his watch looking towards Pym. Motioning as if he'd forgotten something before he hovers back up towards the roof, so he can land on the helicopter pad.
*
"Somehow," Pym observes, "I think you'd best get used to this sort of thing, Miss Potts, or…" He shrugs. "You seem far too good at your job for Mr. Stark to lose you to a nervous breakdown." He glances at his watch, ahhs softly. "Yes. Now I recall. I was supposed to go bowling with that gentleman I met at the club. He really ought to write his name more legibly."
*
"I…I'm not really the nervous breakdown… Sort, in truth. But this place…" Pepper states with a low half laugh. If she doesn't laugh she might cry, so laughing it is. "Would you care to see the helicopter pad, Dr. Pym? It's…quite nice. And I do believe you can meet Mr. Stark Senior…" Pepper states sweet as pie, turning on the ball of her high heel and leading down the hall to the harder, outer door that leads onto the concrete and paved round landing pad area. It whips her hair everywhere or, well, some of her bangs. Otherwise, the half a can of Aqua Net on her beehive is doing it's job!
*
On that rooftop Helipad rests the flying Tucker 48. It's beautiful almost metallic cream paint reflecting off the light of the world. The convertible top rolled all the way down so that the driver can feel the wind of the flight in his hair.
A few of the security assigned to the rooftop seem to be standing with their jaws partially agape as the elder stark simply kicks back in his flying car as it finishes its touchdown the wheels folding back out, and down so that they can allow for a proper touchdown onto that nicely set up landing pad.
*
Pym follows Pepper out to the helipad without comment, though a touch of amusement shows in his eyes. He does hope the girl doesn't have a breakdown — but it's a strange old world, as his father used to say. "Makes my Nash look like an Edsel," he observes when he gets a better view of the Tucker.
*
Tucking a lock of red hair behind her ear, Pepper winces just slightly against the bright sunlight as she watches Howard coming in to park, or land? Land his vehicle. "Well…Tony might not be in today, but it seems Howard has decided to make an appearance. I don't know if it's made the papers yet, I'm assuming not, but Howard Stark is very much alive again and, apparently, drives a god damn flying car." Pepper has a Berkeley girl's mouth, if nothing else.
She then steps forward with that gleaming, gibson girl smile that she's practiced over the years, greeting Howard as he finishes touching down. She opens the car door for him, welcoming him out onto the landing platform. "Howard, Mr. STark isn't in this afternoon. Was he expecting you? I was just entertaining another appointment I think he forgot he made. Dr. Henry Pym, Howard Stark. Howard, Dr. Pym."
*
Howard steps out from his car shutting the door with a bit of care. His hands are held down inside of his pockets as he steps off the ramp. "No, but Dr.Pym here should have been." He offers a confident smile and a laugh walking forward. "You know usually it's the women who stand me up, not premier scientists." Giving off a confident laugh.
"Sorry to bust in on this friendly little gathering, but I had a hunch around hour two of you not showing I should go looking." Another smile as he gives a slight wink towards pepper adding in her direction. "Didn't get the chance before but anyone tell you, you look great." Slight pause. "Not just saying that either, definitely a good catch for Tony." A slightly long look as he takes in her features before snapping back to the good Doctor. "So, we're still on for bowling right? Hard to start a team without any players."
*
"I'm sorry, Howard," Pym says, raising one hand to the back of his head and looking a touch sheepish. "When we discussed bowling, I had a few scotches in me. Couldn't read the handwriting on your card — and somehow got the impression that I had an appointment to discuss my miniaturization technology with your son. Better late than never?"
*
"…Bowling. Howard…" Pepper blinks and sticks her hand out in Henry's direction, "Let me see that card again?" And, should he hand it to her, she'll stare a moment then half laugh, "God, how did downstairs even send you up? This clearly isn't Tony's writing." It *clearly* isn't anyone's writing, but Pepper knows Tony's drunken scrawl better than anyone and the 'Stark' is sort of able to be seen among the messy writing. She shakes her head and hands the card back.
"…Well, first, Howard, Tony and I aren't… like that. I'm just his assistant. And secondly, would you both like to come in, or Dr. Pym, maybe you'd just like to pick up your car and head out from here with Howard. I'll let Tony know you both stopped by. He'll be most confused." The look on her face says she might actually enjoy confusing him.
*
"You owe me, but I'd say I can still let bygones be as they are." A smile crossing his face as he continues to walk along a small click as he gets further away from the car. The convertables hard top coming right back up out of the trunk and locking into place. Soon after thin metal sheets lock down over the windows of the car, and tires. It's a rather interesting anti-theft process less about actually stopping direct damage to the car, and more making it a bit more intimidating to attempt theft.
"If Tony hasn't already finished it I'd enjoy a glass of the '94 Penley Estate Cabernet Sauvignon Coonawarra Phoenix" Rattled off with a bit of a knowing smile as he walks over to try and put an arm around Pym's shoulder. "Remind me to invent something that can sign my name for me, after the eighth glass my writing just turns to a complete mess." He laughs confidently, before just offering a bit of a knowing wink towards Pepper. He definatly thinks there's some sparks between the two.
*
"I'm afraid they've already invented that, Howard," Pym says mildly. "It's called a rubber stamp. I imagine Miss Potts has a few lying about the office, though they likely sign your son's name, rather than yours." It occurs to Hank a moment or two after saying this that Howard getting his hands on a stamp with Tony Stark's signature engraved into it might be a less than ideal thing, and he casts an apologetic glance toward Pepper.
*
Oh yes, Pepper is giving Hank *that look* and an arched brow. She's going to be watching them both like a hawk. "Well, I… yes, I suppose there is a board room open today you could use, no one is really in on this floor…" Pepper admits half embarrassed, not certain if she should actually be inviting Howard to do business here but also not willing to kick him out. If nothing else, she'd listen and learn. And give Tony the full report.
She leads them both back into the offices and to one of the long, clean lines conference rooms on the right side of the hallway. Once inside the door, she presses the comm button to buzz to one of the other secretaries. "Jenny, can you bring up a bottle of the '94 Penley Estate Cabernet Sauvignon Coonawarra Phoenix? Two glasses. Thank you. We're in Conference Room A." And then Pepper invites herself right to the desk with them. Still smiling like that. WHo could say no to that smile?
*
Howard takes off those thick sunglasses before stuffing them right into the pocket of his bowling jacket. a low confident laugh coming from his chest as he moves right along towards the board room. "Why stick with the tried and true when you can invent something brand new?" A slight pause as he moves through the hall up to that door. "Half the fun in inventing something new is just the process of creation, not actually making anything particularly revolutionary."
Howards walks into the room still smiling as he adjusts his bowling jacket. "I'd think you of all people would understand that." He gives a smiling nod towards Pepper. "Not usually one to stand on hospitality, but thank you for the invitation."
*
Certainly Pym isn't objecting to Pepper's presence. She's a smart cookie, sure — but more importantly, she's cute as anything. And those legs! If he had the budget for a secretary who is clearly getting paid a lot more than the average — she works for the Starks, after all…
"I'm never against building a better mousetrap, Howard, but let's be fair: sometimes the simple answer is the best. Now, you want to invent something that translates drunken scribbles to legible text, that seems entirely worthwhile. And it would have a remarkable effect on overall productivity. You know as well as I that the best ideas come when a man's drunk — and he can never remember them in the morning."
*
Tony arrives from the Financial District.
*
Tony has arrived.
*
Pepper just put in an order for a bottle of very old wine to be pulled from the collection and taken to Conference Room A, but there is also a big kerfuffle about the building concerning a certain flying car that landed on the helicoper pad five minutes ago. So, there is no doubt that Howard Stark is here, and probably IN conference room A. Also, Pepper is missing from her desk. Her coffee cup marked with her lipstick is there, and her usual Wall Street Journal. But no Pepper. The quiet sound of voices might be heard coming down from the conference area.
Pepper smiles, settling into the table near them both and crossing her legs. She pulls her short hand pad out of her pocket and just settles into smiling. Writing. No words. She's just here to be a secretary. Even if she's not secretary to either of them.
*
Tony makes his way in, not bothering to knock because it's his building and it seems rather silly to do so. He'd spent his days mostly around the lab, continuing to work on his newest version of the repulsor ray, measuring its efficiency. He'd also just finished an update for a young private detective in need of bionic assistance. He'd already given her an arm, but she might need a little something extra to go with it.
"Ah, there you are, Pepper. Here I thought you'd been kidnapped. Too bad, I was looking forward to punching some miscreant in the mouth. Plus, you'd have been in the same boat as Frank Sinatra Jr., only prettier and with slightly shorter heels," he says.
"Father and…Dr. Pym," he says, certainly knowing the man by reputation and from his picture in scientific publications, if not face to face, "How delightful that you've come to take advantage of our conference room rental service. Remind me when we started doing that again, Pep? Well, never mind, I'm sure you'll all be happy to tell me precisely why you two gentlemen have decided to grace Stark Industries with your presence?"
*
Howard had just about been ready to respond back to Pym again when who should walk in but the spawn of his loins. He's wearing a bowling jacket and shirt standing in rather plain looking matching pants. A pair of expensive sunglasses have been tucked down into the front pocket of his shirt. "You know Tony, I thought the same thing, but it's really nice of you to let young upstarts like myself rent meeting rooms for these little get-togethers."
Howard has that confident friendly smile that's sealed more deals then anything he could say or invent. He takes a few steps closer moving his jacket slightly with each motion, before finally grabbing himself a seat. "I'm getting fairly good about bringing people together, was looking at setting up a team." He pauses for a moment tossing down a monogrammed bowling jacket onto the table, with the word Avengers across the lapel.
*
"It was really a bit of a mix-up," Pym notes. "Your father gave me his card when we were out drinking, and… being as I was drunk, I thought I had an appointment to discuss some of my research with you." He gives a helpless shrug. "Very sorry about the confusion, Mr. Stark, but it is a pleasure to meet you all the same." He pauses, turns toward Pepper. "I am quite sorry to have wasted your time, Miss Potts."
*
"Really, it was just a mix up, Tony. *I* offered them the conference room to chat about it all. Howard didn't presume, I swear. I just thought I'd be nice. Take some notes for them. You know." Pepper is trying to be as perky and slightly secretary-stupid in a way that she decidedly is NOT. But that's the best she can do to drop a hint to Tony that she had this all under control and now he's somewhat spoiling things by pouting about it, but what's done is done. She smiles back to them both, though her gaze lingers on Dr. Pym, "Well, it was truly amazing to see your tiny little car, Dr. Pym. You're work on shrinking things is… well… Amazing. And to see you again, Howard."
*
Tony smiles to Dr. Pym, "Well, I'm certainly not one to lecture anyone about drunken mistakes. Ask the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders. Or, rather, don't, I'm fairly sure some of those girls had cameras,' he says.
He smiles at Pepper, reaching over to put a hand gently on her shoulder, "Don't worry, Pep, I understand that you have an instinct for hospitality. It speaks well of you and I encourage it," he says. He gets her message, but sometimes a man has to make sure he has his territory firmly marked, especially when the old dog come sniffing around the place. "I'd be happy to meet with you more formally sometime, Dr. Pym," he says, offering his hand befor ethe man departs. To Howard, he says, "You decided to hold a meeting with Henry Pym just to get him on your bowling team? Dad, if you're bored, I can see about getting you a television. You should try the Ed Sullivan program."
*
"What can I say?" Howard pauses for a moment looking over towards his son. "A man can make a lot of difference with the right team." Hands coming out of his pockets again as he comes right back up to a stand instead leaning his back against the wall. "You're welcome to join to, if you can stand working with your old man."
"Besides Sullivan's next week, I couldn't get a slot this week." He pulls a small cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. A long pause for himself as he looks down towards the jacket setting sprawled out on the table. "You'd need to bring your own suit of course, but it could be fun." He pauses for another long moment before firmly adding "I've made a few mistakes, and had some accidents that night wasn't one of them." A flip lighter coming out of that same pocket made from pure Vibranium.
*
"Actually," says Pym, "I'm entirely in favor of joining the bowling team — my assistants have been telling me I need to start spending more time out of the lab." He examines the jacket for a few moments, then takes it. "Thank you, Howard. Give my lab a call — my assistants will take the message and I'll be at the right place this time. Admittedly, they are grad students, so they'll not be so professional about it as Miss Potts, but…" He shrugs. Not every assistant can be a Pepper Potts. Aside to Tony he notes, "Whatever you're paying her, it's not enough." This from the guy who gets his assistants from the ESU graduate pool.
"I'd be happy to sit down with you and look at some of my work, Mr. Stark." He rummages in his pockets for a moment, eliciting a high-pitched squeak as from a car horn shrunk to Matchbox size, and finally finds a battered business card, which he offers to Pepper. "I need to be going for now… but next week, Howard. Bowling."
*
"I… I can show you out, Dr. Pym. Make certain you and your car get to the valet lane safe." In truth, Pepper wanted to see the reversing of his technology in person, but she's smoother than to say that out loud. She gives Tony a half smile, a touch worried but also understanding. The hand on her shoulder actually does let her relax, just a trace. It's not the sort of lean in that some secretary's give, trying to get more than a hand out of the boss. It's a genuine, momentary enjoyment of that touch. Then she's scooping up her note pad and moving for the door with Pym. "I'll be back up in five minutes, Mr. Stark. I promsie." And with that, she follows the genius out and down to the elevator bank.
*