[ Out of the Captain America suit, Stephanie Rogers is almost unremarkable, just a stereotypical blonde American woman with a questionable fashion sense. But her handshake is firm, and her posture has a military quality to it. She gives Tony a well-practiced smile, one that softens into something more genuine when Pepper bids her leave. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Potts," she says, and even that is softer, too.
She tries not to stare at Tony as he moves about the room. God, Howard has a son. A son. Who looks and is a lot like him, if the articles she's read could be believed. Yet she still can't quite wrap her mind around that, even if it's already been weeks since she'd been hauled from the ice and forced back out into the world. Even after having gone to see Peggy, and Bucky's sister, Becca, who'd both been old and senile and had believed her dead. Even after having had better food, learning that polio had been eradicated, and discovering the Internet. Yeah, she's definitely not in 1945 anymore.
She hesitates, then follows Tony to the bar. It's fancy, unlike the bars she'd been to in the course of the war, but she at least knows this particular language of men. She runs her fingers along the countertop for a moment, studying the handiwork, before distractedly answeringโ ]
Whiskey.
[ โonly to be slammed with the realization that she'd started taking whiskey because it had been Bucky's drink of choice. Quickly, she sits down on one of the stools and surreptitiously grips her thighs so she doesn't get overtaken by her grief or accidentally destroy her host's furniture. ]
Thank you for taking the time to see me. This must beโ
[ Tony snorts at her request. Of course it's whiskey. Probably the same way his dad liked it. Was there anything about Howard Stark that wasn't just a symptom of his Captain America worship? He honestly doesn't know any more. ] You got it, Cap.
[ He watches her as she sits down, trying to reconcile the giant in his mind to this woman. It doesn't make much sense. ] Unexpected? Freaky? Really fucking weird? Yeah, all of the above.
[ He drops a ball of ice into a tumbler and pours the whiskey over it before sliding it across the bar to her and making one his own. He takes a deep drink of his and fixes her with a curious stare. ] So what can I do for you?
[ Steph visibly winces. She hadn't known what to expect from this meeting, that's true, but she certainly didn't expect this... hostility. ]
Iโ [ She takes a mouthful of whiskey for some liquid courage, only to remember as it slides down her throat that it does nothing for her. ] Your father was a good friend of mine. I just... I wanted to meet you. I don't really know a lot of people in this... time.
A good friend? [ He grins at her, though there's not warmth behind it. ] I guess that depends on which biography you read. But yeah, I might have heard your name a time or a million growing up. The old man moved on from the war, but he never got over you. [ He points his glass at her. He's pretty sure Howard would be turning in his grave if he was able to hear any of this, but he doesn't really care.]
Well, if you need money, I can help you with that. Least I can do for Captain America. My lawyers can probably even turn it into a tax break, but if you're looking for a friend, well, I'm not anything like him.
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no subject
[ Out of the Captain America suit, Stephanie Rogers is almost unremarkable, just a stereotypical blonde American woman with a questionable fashion sense. But her handshake is firm, and her posture has a military quality to it. She gives Tony a well-practiced smile, one that softens into something more genuine when Pepper bids her leave. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Potts," she says, and even that is softer, too.
She tries not to stare at Tony as he moves about the room. God, Howard has a son. A son. Who looks and is a lot like him, if the articles she's read could be believed. Yet she still can't quite wrap her mind around that, even if it's already been weeks since she'd been hauled from the ice and forced back out into the world. Even after having gone to see Peggy, and Bucky's sister, Becca, who'd both been old and senile and had believed her dead. Even after having had better food, learning that polio had been eradicated, and discovering the Internet. Yeah, she's definitely not in 1945 anymore.
She hesitates, then follows Tony to the bar. It's fancy, unlike the bars she'd been to in the course of the war, but she at least knows this particular language of men. She runs her fingers along the countertop for a moment, studying the handiwork, before distractedly answeringโ ]
Whiskey.
[ โonly to be slammed with the realization that she'd started taking whiskey because it had been Bucky's drink of choice. Quickly, she sits down on one of the stools and surreptitiously grips her thighs so she doesn't get overtaken by her grief or accidentally destroy her host's furniture. ]
Thank you for taking the time to see me. This must beโ
no subject
[ He watches her as she sits down, trying to reconcile the giant in his mind to this woman. It doesn't make much sense. ] Unexpected? Freaky? Really fucking weird? Yeah, all of the above.
[ He drops a ball of ice into a tumbler and pours the whiskey over it before sliding it across the bar to her and making one his own. He takes a deep drink of his and fixes her with a curious stare. ] So what can I do for you?
no subject
Iโ [ She takes a mouthful of whiskey for some liquid courage, only to remember as it slides down her throat that it does nothing for her. ] Your father was a good friend of mine. I just... I wanted to meet you. I don't really know a lot of people in this... time.
[ Fuck. That sounded so pathetic out loud. ]
no subject
Well, if you need money, I can help you with that. Least I can do for Captain America. My lawyers can probably even turn it into a tax break, but if you're looking for a friend, well, I'm not anything like him.