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Another chilly lunch hour in the city that never sleeps, but on the plus side… at least there's no snow on the ground to contend with! As normal, people are coming and going from this place and to that one, each with their own personal agendas and most with full belief that their particular desire came before everyone else's.
One such person? None other than Thomas Shepherd himself. Running through the streets like lightning made flesh. No snow (or rain) on the ground means no ice to contend with, which means easier running. Today he's wearing a dark gray suit over a white dress shirt and green tie — it doesn't quite fit him, or /belong/ to him… but a promise is a promise, and despite a distaste for it, he knows how the game is played. Familiar ski goggles are worn over his eyes, and in his hand is a newspaper clipping showing his target. If he wants to work for a high-earning company like Stark's… and not as some entry-level grunt, but as the thing of amazingness that he knows he is? He needs to talk to the /right/ people. Which means the people he can show off for without the kind of fear that others would have of him doing in front of just /anyone./
…which is why he's on the hunt. Lunchtime, he figures, everyone goes /out./ He can cover a lot of ground in an hour, and the odds that he can find a single person in the city streets? …well, honestly, not as good as /he/ feels like they are, but that's not going to stop him from trying. The boy's got confidence in spades, even if his common sense is lacking.
*
Gary has arrived.
*
Gary has left.
*
Out, yes. Pepper simply needed to get out. She got her things out of the office, but then the proper work day came into being and she had no work to do. No where to go. She wondered uselessly an hour before going to her normal lunch cafe, or towards it at least, because her body was going through habit and she had nothing else to do. So she's walking towards it, her long coat across her now-skinny frame. Most of her make up is off, showing rather sallowed features. She's mostly wiped away the tear streaks of her mascara, but there is still some echoes on her features. Pepper is most certainly Pepper Potts, but she's also also a wreck compared to anything she's ever seen in a press conference or in the papers.
*
Nightcrawler arrives from Albert Chambers.
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Nightcrawler has arrived.
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Nightcrawler leaves, heading towards Hell's Kitchen [N].
*
Nightcrawler has left.
*
It helped that one of the people in the clipping was a redhead; naturally, she'd be the easiest to find. Flame-haired women tended to stick out in a crowd wherever they went, and doubly so for Tommy since he'd become entangled with one of their kind. Eventually, with a turn down just the right street, the one he's looking for /today/ is located. He thinks.
There's a glance to the clipping. A glance back to Pepper. A look back down. A collie in the middle of the road?!
It's all Tommy can do to leap /over/ the dog being walked before crashing into it or its owner, leaving no evidence beyond a ruffling of fur in his wake. A sharp turn afterwards takes him into an alleyway and into the brick side of a building — only as his 'landing', however, as he was already working to slow down and the wall just provides somewhere solid to do that. Not quite as well as a wall full of pillows… but it serves the purpose regardless.
There's a moment taken to shove the clipping and goggles into a pocket. Another to fix hair and adjust suit. Then he's strutting out of the alleyway and making quick time on what starts out as a collision course, but changes to a race to beat Pepper to the door to said cafe. Which is pulled open for her by the fellow with platinum hair. "After yo—" Time to fake just recognizing her. "…wait. You're.. you're whats-her-name. Potts, right?"
An hour spent at the library speedreading newspapers and doing research can come in handy. Plus, he saw his daily horoscope for the past year! …granted, the /next/ year would've probably been better, but it was interesting nonetheless.
*
Normally, Pepper would be more aware than she is this moment, but shock is a strange thing and there is no doubt she is in shock. Pepper is just going through the motions as her mind runs a thousand miles an hour, trying to figure out what to do now. So, she misses the slight scuffle in the middle of the street, the confused dog owner and momentarily barking collie. SHe misses the fact that someone is basically stalking her into the little cafe‘. Until the moment he’s opening the door and she looks back to him, drowsily blinking.
"…Hm? Ah… yes… I… what? Who are you? Yes… I am… Pepper Potts…" She might be more worried or alarmed, but her emotions are dragging behind anything else going in her brain. She continues walking forward into the slightly crowded cafe, going back towards her normal side table, with just two chairs and one place setting. It's habit, they know her here. She waves to the server who nods her into her place.
*
Tommy Shepherd: Master of Stealth. When nobody's looking. And the person he's looking for is horribly distracted.
"Who am I? Lady, I'm your one-stop ticket to success like you wouldn't begin to believe." Tommy replies smoothly. The words roll off his tongue, he's practiced them, much like that smile that crosses his lips to accompany it. The latter serving him well in many a social interaction over the years. Of course, he can't help but notice that something isn't /quite/ right. Never let it be said he's completely self-involved.
Mostly, maybe, but not completely.
"Uh. Everything okay?" he asks, following along behind the redhead and moving quickly to pull out a chair for her. Attempts at etiquette are important in business settings. At least that's what the three-hundred and twenty-six page book said, more or less. It might have some interesting drawings in the empty spaces that weren't there before he borrowed it, too. A gift for future readers.
*
Raven arrives from East Village.
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Raven has arrived.
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Raven leaves, heading towards Hell's Kitchen [N].
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Raven has left.
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Hope arrives from East Village.
*
His too smooth words make her blink slowly about her one stop ticket. Pepper stares at him, confused a few heartbeats, but then he's pulling out her chair and she knows what to do with that. So, Pepper folds down into the chair and begins to carefully unbutton her coat. She should have taken it off already, but she's just not on top of things right now. So she just lets it drape backwards across the back of the chair, exposing a pale cream suit with a dark silk shirt beneath. Her clothing should look perfect, it's tailored, but it's currently a touch too loose on her.
"…Okay? Yes… yes, of course. I, well… success? I… need a job, if that is what you are offering…" Pepper admits quietly, giving him a weak, half smile and probably shattering ALL of his plans for this entire conversation.
*
She's not the only one in loose-fitting clothing, but that's what happen when one borrows a suit like this. Once Pepper sits, Tommy moves to hop into the seat opposing her and get comfortable — sitting in it properly, despite the urge to flip it around and perch in it that way. He waits for the response to that opening salvo… and it's nothing that he ever prepared for.
"Wait, wait. No, that's /my/ line. I'm supposed to tell you how I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread and you're supposed to be all, 'oh my God, you're incredible, Tommy! Here, take all this money, just come work for us!' A pause, and green eyes take on a wary look. "Is it really /that/ bad working for Stark?" He's reconsidering, now. For all of a second or two — the reminder of what's at stake? That keeps him pressing forward. Still, good to know the state of things going in at the very least."
*
A slow, slightly drowsy blink at him, as he protests her words. There is a little of old Pepper beneath the surface, a smirk deepening on her lips just a heartbeat and head tilting as if to say 'seriously?!', but she doesn't voice the words. SHe just stares at him a heartbeat or two before shaking it off. The waitress comes by, dropping off Pepper her normal coffee and then giving a sugar sweet smile towards Tommy: "Hey, honey, you need somethin' to drink? A menu?" Pepper lets him order, it gives her a few minutes to gather her thoughts.
She is finally a bit more herself, taking in a deep breath and steadying her frame. SHe even takes a good sip of her coffee before focusing pale blue, bloodshot eyes on him. "…No, it's not that bad. Tony is… demanding, yes, but not impossible. You…you should go there right now. He has an opening. He… he'll need an assistant. Your timing is perfect, really…" That brings a bittersweet smile to her lips, "But you are talking to the wrong person."
*
To say the least, the boy has a high opinion of himself. Granted, the services he'd planned to offer? He's not terribly far off-base on his value. The waitress' arrival swings him back on a more normal accord, though, and the smile is turned onto her for a couple of moments. "Just a coffee for me, please. Six sugars, two creams." Money wasn't something that Tommy had in spades, so keeping the order simple was key.
Then Pepper's talking again and his attention snaps back. Easily distracted he is, but it also means he's able to hop from one thing to the next pretty well! Of course, as Pepper's words continue coming, his expression grows a bit confused. Assistant? That wasn't the job he was looking for. Wasn't…
/Oh./
The ghosts of streaked mascara, the distracted speech, the… lack of liveliness? Tommy does most things fast; emotional shifts are right up there. Shoulders slump, lips curve into a frown, eyes take on a vaguely apologetic glint. "…Shit. I get it. I'm sorry." Not for anything /he's/ done, mind. An actual apology from Tommy Shepherd would be rare and marked on a calendar. This? This is sympathy. Far easier to show. While there /is/ some temptation to take the advice, to vanish so fast that a puff of smoke would be left in his wake… he stays. This changed the plan, and to try and fit into an environment where he didn't? It would require a bit more practice. A bit more planning, as much as he'd rather fly by the seat of his pants.
"I'm not sure I'm really qualified for /that/, honestly." Although what does an assistant /do/? Tommy considers it for a moment. Pictures it in his head. Sitting at a desk, typing things out. Business business business, numbers numbers…
…but the /reason/ behind needing a job is solid. Independence and someone dependant /on/ him. Might not hurt to try, and how much would explode if he screwed up terribly? Probably more than he thinks. "You wanna talk about it?" is offered lamely. It'd buy him some time between the mental practicing he's already doing and actually charging into it. Give him time to work out that perfect elevator speech, so to speak.
*
The waitress gives a small smile and a nod, "Got it, sugar." Hah, she made a joke, especially considering his order. She then walks off and lets them be, not bothering Pepper any longer even if she can see the odd state of the woman. Pepper has mostly put herself back together, a bittersweet smile on her lips, eyes more focused if she cannot hide quite how bloodshot they are. She lets his mind speed ahead, taking his words as they come out. She is in no rush to speak. She just takes another small sip of her coffee.
"…Talk about it? No. I… there simply isn't much to say. Things didn't work out. I am sure he will be fine. And…if that is not what you are qualified for, what DID You plan to pitch yourself as? Clearly you sought me out with intentions."
*
The joke brings a smile back to his face — oh, he caught that, and he's used to people questioning his order. He tends to be a little off-kilter at restaurants, whether it's just a matter of ordering /more/ than one might expect someone his size can eat… or just over-sugaring his drinks.
He manages not to laugh, though, trying to keep a bit of somberness about him. Having not worked before, he doesn't know what a sudden /stop/ to employment feels like…. so in his head, it's related to the closest thing he can imagine; a break-up. Mercifully, he's not of the mindset to go for the proverbial rebound at te moment, either, because that's a headache that she probably doesnt need! The question, though? It has him shifting gears. Pressing rewind and going back to his original mental script.
"Well, you know the post office, and UPS, and things like that, right? If you wanna send something to, say, China, it'll take weeks. Important people don't always /have/ weeks, though, am I right?" A pause for effect, before he continues, "What if I said I could get it there in two hours. What kinda value would that have?" It's practicd, and not-entirely relatable to the moment, which is why Tommy chuckles a bit and waves a hand, "Cue the 'you're amazing, take all this money', yadda yadda. I figured someone like him could probably use what someone like me could do."
*
The redhead listens quietly, the expression across her pale face curious. She tilts her head a bit to the side, brows arching, as the man almost admits he has powers, but doesn't quite. Pepper's pale eyes now narrow, studying the young, pale haired man in front of her. "…And just how could you get something to China in two hours?" While she has no authority any longer, there is still a tone to her voice of a woman who is used to being in charge. Maybe she's screening before she sends him onto Stark Industries. Maybe she's planning on poaching him for wherever she goes next. Either way, Pepper's mind is clearly rolling at a somewhat business speed again and she's getting every detail about this situation.
*
"The same way that I could get it across town in a matter of seconds. On /foot./" Tommy replites, lips curving into that natural cat-that-cat-the-canary grin. Oh, he's definitely not that shy about admitting such things about himself. Probably more open about it than he should be; but this was a rarely calculated choice, based upon the people that he's seen her associate with. Well. Based on /one/ such person. Hand digs into pocket briefly, and out comes a piece of paper; it has his name, address, and a phone number. This is set on the table in front of Pepper. "Long story short, I work for money, like most folks. Maybe having someone like me available will help someone like /you/ get your next gig. If so? Be in touch."
…and as they say the proof is in the pudding? Without even waiting for a response, he's gone. The paper — and coffee he'd ordered — being the only proof that he was there in the first place.