"Fuck." An elegant conclusion to her apt diagnosis. There were lines, he knew that. Lines he wasn't supposed to cross, lines that were put there for a reason. He had made that mistake before. He and Pepper, after years of working together, had gotten too close; he had let her into his orbit, and it had burned her. For a while after that, Tony had tried to go at it alone, to keep his distance, but the truth was, Tony needed the help. He wasn't any good on his own, that much was obvious. When he didn't have a blood and bone assistant, he built himself a digital one; at the moment, he had both, El working day in and day out on the people stuff, while FRIDAY--the pink, hologram of a woman that fluttered in and out of the office--was in charge of the digital, keeping their work running smoothly and, quite literally, keeping the lights turned on, since she paid his energy bills.
Tony had brought El in--promoting her from lobby secretary to his personal assistant--because, frankly, he'd needed the help, and she had proved herself above and beyond everything he'd ever expected of her. And Tony expected a lot. He liked to think he was a good boss, someone who didn't push his employees to work too much overtime, someone who paid a good, competitive wage, someone that let those who worked for him pitch their own ideas and show off their creativity. But you didn't become the top tech company in the world by slacking, and Tony took up most of the slack himself--meaning his P.A. was a full time, and often exhausting job.
El clocking out was....problematic. She was still here, still helping, still providing the peptalks, and she wasn't being paid for it. It would be an HR nightmare. He wasn't supposed to be friends with her. He had tried--really, he had--to keep a respectable working distance emotionally. But that was hard to keep up when the job meant late nights and weekends, impromptu trips across the globe, secret projects, and midnight tacos. His father would have rolled over in his grave to know Tony made 'friends' with his employees when he should have been the boss with an iron fist. But that had never been his leading style.
And let's be honest, this wasn't about leading. All his efforts, all the roadblocks he'd tried to put in their way, hadn't worked. He and El were friends. Or maybe more, maybe--no. He wouldn't let his mind go there. Friends was save. He could do friends.
With an exaggerated groan, Tony took her hands and got to his feet. "Mechanical waffle," he pitched--at least this time, it was a joke. An hour ago, desperately tired and burned out, the pizza donut had not been a joke. "Your breakfast buddy; a toy for kids that teaches them to make food. Or digital cereal boxes." He yawned then said to the room at large, "FRIDAY, you know the drill." Close the open files, lock the confidential information, and put the lab on lockdown until they got back. "Alright," he told El. "Lead the way."
