What We Stand For || Davey & Tony
@davey-conway
Grant Ward Is Us. Tony stood in front of the wall, sipping bad coffee from a to-go cup, and thinking that he paid far too much for the food and drink around here for anything to taste this bad. Or at least that was what he wished he was thinking about. It was part of it, anyway. He was also partially thinking about space travel, that maybe he’d privatize satellite creation or rocketships, convince Steve to get on board one of them and operate completely from the moon. It had to be better than this. “What time do the painters get in?” he asked, pulling the cap off his coffee cup to stare at the sludge rising to the top. Would it have been too much to ask to have one thing go right today?
“They should be here in an hour, Sir,” said Tom. He was Tony’s newest intern, who was not quite a Pepper, but boy did the kid try. He couldn’t juggle meetings the way Pepper could, didn’t read Tony’s mind like Pepper had, but Tony also liked to think he’d become a better boss since the days when he’d needed Pepper to drag him out of bed in the mornings, and so maybe he didn’t need a Pepper. He didn’t drink anymore, for one, and now that he was leading a company he was proud of--a leader in clean energy and life-saving medical advancement, not just engineers of all things that go boom--he hardly even tried to get out of his obligations. Usually. But he’d have liked to get out of this one.
“Draft the memo and send it to JARVIS for proof reading,” he told Tom. Tony tried another sip of his coffee then frowned, spit out the grounds into the nearest trash can, and threw the cup in with it. “Then take a break. You earned it.” Tony spared the wall one last look then returned to his office for a meeting that was just about the last thing on Earth he wanted to do. Davey Conway, long time security employee, was, apparently, prime suspect number one: just about everyone in the office had reported to Tony or Pepper or someone in between them that the man had been passing out Anti-Avenger flyers, and that he’d seemed “distressed” just hours before the vandalism had been reported.
Tony usually wouldn’t deal with this sort of stuff himself--he had people for that--but with the government blockade on Avenger activity and his inability to leave the tower due to the growing mob outside, he had more time than usual. And anyway, this was personal now. “Coffee?” Tony asked, moving straight for the machine in the corner of his office and pulling out two mugs from the cupboard above it.
