Hey Felicia, how much do you know about Betty Banner? Her work, research and whatever.
[She hums thoughtfully, setting down the string in her hands] Not much, I’m afraid. I read up a little on her after what happened to her..husband, all I know is that she was [..?] one of the leading biologists in her field, worked hand in hand with the military on some project a while back that’s now defunct and has a bit of work out. Do you want me to find some specifics like papers, journals, [gestures with her hand] etcetera?
Does this look like the face of someone who cares?
“What can I say, I’m a media man.” A smile curled its way up his face, carving into his cheeks with deep, elegantly curved lines. Audacity was written into his expression, etching the line of his jaw and lighting the spark in his eyes. The light chastisement of this woman only injected a delightful spice of boyish rebellion into his features, her line cast out at a teasing length, dangling like a string of starlight right in front of him. His smile was rich.
I can give better.
“Time should be spent like dollars: on a life that is full and wide”. He’d strung that comment along after her own words like a trail of vintage ribbon; red and black and so beautifully fɍaɏɇđ. How glorious they both looked entwined in it.
тнє ƒαѕнιση σƒ уєαяѕ ƒяσм ησω
He let his statement sink into mind as an anchor into ocean, watching it as it was slowly consumed by her enclosing, shadowed veil. Oh, what ๓ץรՇєгץ those depths held. A shimmering abyss of quiet lights that adventurers dared not reach for.
Foolhardy were the fearful, for the greatest treasures always lay at the bottom of the sea.
Victory touched his face, and he gracefully turned around to face the bar counter again, waving over the bartender and ordering another drink. His beverage of yesterday’s hour left colorful, plentiful and ignored by the wayside. He looked back her way when she spoke once more, her words a flickering series of lights in this drearily dark room. His lower face stretched slyly at what she had to say, and he nodded his head understandingly. He got it, he got it. Though the smirk that followed him brimmed with overflowing confidence, spilling a charisma that charmed its way through his lips and into the air between them.
“Interesting? Well, I’ll just have to work extra hard to impress you with something then, won’t I.”
His drink arrived in front of him at the moment: an empty cup, a pitcher, and a small bucket of ice. He took the ice up using his hand, declining the utensil offered to provide the service for him. Dropping the transparent shards into place, they clattered and clanged with a riotous noise. Somewhere in the cloisters of his own mind, the sound of crunching glass and worlds overturned echoed a resonant cacophony in his head.
Harry poured the vivid liquid in and took the drink to his lips, closing his eyes and drawing a long, indulgent sip. Exhaling a soft sigh after, he placed the drink back down onto the counter, holding it between both his hands and looking to the wall of bottles and glass directly in front of him. Like yarn he drew the silence out, until finally.
He looked over to her.
“How does declaring war on a killer robot sound to you…?”
𝓥 𝓲 𝓿 𝓮 𝓵𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓸𝓵𝓾𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷.
She chuckled at his words, shoulder delicately shrugged, “Just as my interest isn’t easily gained, Mr. Osborn, it also isn’t easily kept.” Her words are drawled, pouring off her lips like a thick honey. A man of Osborn’s calibre, she knew that at least his attempts at keeping her attentive would be interesting, if only for a day.
It was something to fill in the domesticity she had fallen into.
Sharp eyes traveled over his features once more, there are moments, she thought, where he looked more youthful than he was, too youthful for a game such as theirs. She knew better though, knew well enough that the confidence, the charisma, were tools cultivated for years, that even the brightening edges in his expression could be just that (but something tugged at those thoughts, telling her that those were unintentional, that he was enjoying this just as much as she was).
They sat in silence as she nursed her drink, her interest quietly waning by the time he finally spoke — drawn out moments for the sake of building up the anticipation always had the opposite effect on her.
His words lit a spark in Felicia that was only an ember before. “Ultron.” The name came out in a quiet rush, the only change to her expression being the gentle furrow of disbelief in her brow. All pretenses are dropped then; this offer presented more of an opportunity for her than he might have initially thought. This wasn’t just interest, this was a chance for retribution, this was a chance for her to deal with something bigger than herself, bigger than Fisk even.
for no man has come from the future to warn them of fisk’s dealings like Nathan did for Ultron.
”Sounds to me…” her glass is set down and now he has her full attention, “Like you’ll be having me for more than just a week, Mr. Osborn.”
𝓲’𝓶 𝓲 𝓷.
[ eats a burger that is probably as big as her face at four am because Reasons. ]