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aa_natasha =NYC= Shield HQ - Midtown - NYC
The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division -- or SHIELD, as the branch is commonly known -- makes one of its few public homes in the heart of midtown Manhattan, not far from the bustle of Times Square. The lobby is drawn in lines of sleek, modern metal, with a good deal more security in place than your average city skyscraper, although the measures are perhaps not obvious to the trained eye. The front windows of the building allow sunlight to stream in during daylight hours; it is not immediately evident how big a gun would be required to dent them.
At the moment, however, it's in the process of being patched up from a rather large hole in the ceiling and matching crater in the floor. Thanks, Thor.
Whim brings Stark to SHIELD HQ without appointment or announcement. He is either vain enough or realistic enough to assume some expectation of his arrival, however, after having routed a request through Jarvis to Happy to take him to SHIELD. He has faith in your eavesdropping abilities. He is dressed in a sharp-tailored suit as he swans into the lobby. He abandons his bodyguard at the car, because really, they are all his bodyguards, right? "So who's around that can make some calls on, uhm, requisitions?" he asks whoever should be on duty in the entry. IS IT NATASHA? WILL THEY SUMMON HER?
So very kind of Tony, his refusal to underestimate SHIELD. Natasha appears before she can possibly have been summoned, casual in fitted slacks and a blouse with a jacket shrugged over. Her heels go click click by way of announcement as she appears behind Tony. "Mr. Stark."
Stark's gaze sweeps over her to punctuate in a smile, but his eyes do not linger or leer. He stirs and moves toward her. "Ms. Romanov. Natasha? Or we could go old-school: Ms. Rushman. Natalie." His eyes glint. "What do you feel like today? Hopefully not Black Widow. I'm not dressed for it." He draws a breath and punctuates with his point: "I came to borrow toys."
A hint of amusement flickers in Natasha's smile, although perhaps inevitably it shows signs of annoyance shortly thereafter. Her voice remains sweet, however, when she intones, "You can call me whatever you like, Mr. Stark, but it won't do you much good on that account. We're very protective of our toys." Her brows flicker upward, questioning. "I'd have thought you had plenty of your own."
"I know you are. And I'd find that protective urge very endearing, very reassuring -- except your stuff does sometimes end up in the wrong hands...." Stark grimaces in an easy, friendly way. "I have a certain sympathy for that." He gestures. Let them go walking; surely he can convince her into something by the time they get to the place where the good stuff is locked. "You have some Asgardian tech from New Mexico, right? I'm gathering data, working on ways to identify their tech, maybe even track it. Thor's a good guy, sure, but his brother wasn't, and now there is this Enchantress around."
Natasha steps after Tony, falling into pace with him without comment. Whether she's actually leading him toward fun toys or not-- slightly more questionable. "You've met her?" Natasha inquires, brows arching in slight curiousity. "Or are you just keeping your ear to our rumor mill?"
"My rumor mill too," Stark says with a sniffy little huff that must be part act. "Thor doesn't seem to be very good with secrets, does he? Have you guys found out anything about her? Where she is? How to reach her?"
"I suppose it is, at that." Natasha falls silent for a step or two, taking that in as she chooses her answer. "We haven't made further contact," she finally supplies. "I imagine you'll hear when we do. They seem to be surprisingly-- mobile. These Asgardians."
"Aren't they just." Stark folds his hands at his back and paces easily alongside Natasha. His eyes wander as they go, marking people and projects as best as he can. He doesn't leave any presents behind on this trip. "I'm working on trying to understand their technology. Banner's helping," he adds, like that makes it better. Now you can totally trust him: Tony Stark and the Hulk. "Thor let us run some initial studies Mjolnir and himself. I'd like to add your puzzle pieces to the dataset. I'll be good and return what I borrow."
"Yes, I heard you were playing nice with our resident Gamma Ray expert and the Norse god." She glances toward Tony, dryly amused, and folds her arms across each other t tap her fingers against her elbow. "Boyscout promise?" she checks.
"Of course you did." Stark glances sidelong at Natasha with a narrowing of his eyes equal parts amused and wary. "You know I never made Eagle scout." He holds his right hand up and tries a few permutations on the right salute. He goes with live long and prosper. "Cross my heart."
"I'm shocked," Natasha answers, desert dry. Her heels click several more steps before she comes to a halt and turns to consider Tony more carefully. "What have you discovered?"
Stark rocks back on his heels as she turns and squares to face her. He lifts her chin. "Mm. Still sifting through data. I'm not sure we've found anything yet. Still looking. Need more samples."
"That's conviently vague, Mr. Stark," Natasha notes, wrapping her fingers around her elbow.
"Well don't throw me in the desert and shoot at me in the hopes of a better one," Stark snarks so very airily. "I realize I may have given you unrealistic expectations, but it takes even me a /little/ time to uncover wonders."
"Mmm." Natasha makes a noncommital sound in the back of her throat as she watches Tony mid-snark. She unlatches her hand from its grip on her elbow and tugs an ID card free from a pocket secreted somewhere on her person. With a neat turn, she slides it into place and leans forward for a retnal scan. Only once the door has swung open before her does she add, "I'm not going to let you take our priceless alien artifacts off SHIELD premises." So saying, she presses her palm against the door, and ushers him in with the swing of her opposite hand.
"You wound me," Stark says, but in the same breath, he adds, "Thank you." Apparently unable to restrain himself, he rubs his hands. "I suppose I can try and make do. Loan me a couple of brain-goons and the work will go faster."
"I can, however, arrange you access to our facilities," Natasha continues, lifting her brows as she tips her head toward the room beyond. Although no Asgardian artifacts are /immediately/ apparent, there does seem to be a good deal of technology. And security. "If you think you can make do."
"Of course." All eyes, all /hands/, Stark immediately starts peering at boxes and crates and looking at everything and anything, especially if it seems like he shouldn't. He's distracted already from what she is saying as he looks over the inventory and searches for the alien toys.
"Said access, of course, comes with the caveat that you share whatever you might uncover with SHIELD." Natasha follows Tony in, letting the door swing shut (and locked) behind them. She doesn't hinder his handsy search, but neither does she offer any guidance - it's pretty likely that the closets and cabinets with the fancy looking locks stand between him and them anyway. "From your toys, as well as ours."
"Yes, yes-- mm?" Stark's absent agreement stalls as he looks back to Natasha. His eyes narrow. Then he says, with absolute focus and precise diction, "I would be delighted to share what I learn of identifying and tracking Asgardian technology with SHIELD."
"Whatever," Natasha repeats, syllables sharp and distinct, "you might learn. On any subject." She settles her hip against the edge of a table, arms folding. "That's the price, Mr. Stark. We share with you. You share with us."
"No." Stark settles firm on his heels and firm in his jaw. His expression is somewhere beyond stubborn: iron. "You get what I learn here. Can't stop you. Won't try. What's mine, however, is mine."
Natasha lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Then you don't learn anything here." She pushes away from the table, circling to stand in front of him in a posture just short of eye to eye. "You want us to trust you. It's a two way street. I thought maybe you were learning to be a team player, Tony. For the greater good. Was I wrong?"
Stark laughs as she circles and meets her gaze square. "I don't care if you trust me," he says, and maybe lies. Trust him, admire him, respect him, love him: yeah, maybe a lie. "Sure, I like you. I like your boss. I don't know about his bosses. I don't know about this whole thing where you take a power that could change the world and immediately weaponize it. I don't know about nukes in Manhattan. If I don't learn anything, you don't learn anything. That's your greater good."
Natasha's lips twitch into a bit of a smile in response to that laughter, but amusement doesn't carry in her eyes. She considers this for a moment or two, fingers tapping at her elbow again. "All right," she says. "Let's say we leave SHIELD out of it. You report it directly to Fury." She tips her head slightly, brows raised. Better?
"Okay. Then Fury can have all of my information about identifying and tracking Asgardian technology," Stark says with easy agreement, like he isn't sticking to the same old line.
Natasha blows out a breath, and frustration is clear enough in the flash of her green eyes. She studies Stark in silence for a moment, then steps back and shakes her head. "No. As much as I'd love your insight on what we have, it's not enough. This isn't Stark Industries playtime, and you aren't writing the rules. The world is bigger than Tony Stark. If you want us to share, you share alike."
Stark spreads his hands in an easy shrug. In voice, in manner, in truth, he doesn't seem that put out. His line remains firm. "You're asking for data you had no part in and have no right to. I'm willing to play by your rules with your toys -- anyway, can't stop you since it would be your facilities. But I'm more than happy to walk away from this. Pleasure almost doing business with you."
"You're asking for research access to items you had no part in obtaining and have no right to," Natasha echoes with a remarkable mimic of tone and gesture. "You're asking for trust and giving none in return. It's been an educational conversation."
Stark smiles. "It has," he says. "I'll give you that." He gestures at the door, back out, and away from the Mysteries. "Shall we?"
"By all means," Natasha answers dryly, with a similar gesture. "After you."
Stark saunters on out with his hands to his sides. He is remarkably better behaved now that the deal is off the table, as though some implicit permission has been revoked, so now he must show he is a good boy. His expression is distant as he rolls his attention onward to the next possibility. He leaves this one behind and makes token efforts to banter on the way. Something about SHIELD's chastity belts, great temptation, and all delivered with a light gloss of flirt.
The Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division -- or SHIELD, as the branch is commonly known -- makes one of its few public homes in the heart of midtown Manhattan, not far from the bustle of Times Square. The lobby is drawn in lines of sleek, modern metal, with a good deal more security in place than your average city skyscraper, although the measures are perhaps not obvious to the trained eye. The front windows of the building allow sunlight to stream in during daylight hours; it is not immediately evident how big a gun would be required to dent them.
At the moment, however, it's in the process of being patched up from a rather large hole in the ceiling and matching crater in the floor. Thanks, Thor.
Whim brings Stark to SHIELD HQ without appointment or announcement. He is either vain enough or realistic enough to assume some expectation of his arrival, however, after having routed a request through Jarvis to Happy to take him to SHIELD. He has faith in your eavesdropping abilities. He is dressed in a sharp-tailored suit as he swans into the lobby. He abandons his bodyguard at the car, because really, they are all his bodyguards, right? "So who's around that can make some calls on, uhm, requisitions?" he asks whoever should be on duty in the entry. IS IT NATASHA? WILL THEY SUMMON HER?
So very kind of Tony, his refusal to underestimate SHIELD. Natasha appears before she can possibly have been summoned, casual in fitted slacks and a blouse with a jacket shrugged over. Her heels go click click by way of announcement as she appears behind Tony. "Mr. Stark."
Stark's gaze sweeps over her to punctuate in a smile, but his eyes do not linger or leer. He stirs and moves toward her. "Ms. Romanov. Natasha? Or we could go old-school: Ms. Rushman. Natalie." His eyes glint. "What do you feel like today? Hopefully not Black Widow. I'm not dressed for it." He draws a breath and punctuates with his point: "I came to borrow toys."
A hint of amusement flickers in Natasha's smile, although perhaps inevitably it shows signs of annoyance shortly thereafter. Her voice remains sweet, however, when she intones, "You can call me whatever you like, Mr. Stark, but it won't do you much good on that account. We're very protective of our toys." Her brows flicker upward, questioning. "I'd have thought you had plenty of your own."
"I know you are. And I'd find that protective urge very endearing, very reassuring -- except your stuff does sometimes end up in the wrong hands...." Stark grimaces in an easy, friendly way. "I have a certain sympathy for that." He gestures. Let them go walking; surely he can convince her into something by the time they get to the place where the good stuff is locked. "You have some Asgardian tech from New Mexico, right? I'm gathering data, working on ways to identify their tech, maybe even track it. Thor's a good guy, sure, but his brother wasn't, and now there is this Enchantress around."
Natasha steps after Tony, falling into pace with him without comment. Whether she's actually leading him toward fun toys or not-- slightly more questionable. "You've met her?" Natasha inquires, brows arching in slight curiousity. "Or are you just keeping your ear to our rumor mill?"
"My rumor mill too," Stark says with a sniffy little huff that must be part act. "Thor doesn't seem to be very good with secrets, does he? Have you guys found out anything about her? Where she is? How to reach her?"
"I suppose it is, at that." Natasha falls silent for a step or two, taking that in as she chooses her answer. "We haven't made further contact," she finally supplies. "I imagine you'll hear when we do. They seem to be surprisingly-- mobile. These Asgardians."
"Aren't they just." Stark folds his hands at his back and paces easily alongside Natasha. His eyes wander as they go, marking people and projects as best as he can. He doesn't leave any presents behind on this trip. "I'm working on trying to understand their technology. Banner's helping," he adds, like that makes it better. Now you can totally trust him: Tony Stark and the Hulk. "Thor let us run some initial studies Mjolnir and himself. I'd like to add your puzzle pieces to the dataset. I'll be good and return what I borrow."
"Yes, I heard you were playing nice with our resident Gamma Ray expert and the Norse god." She glances toward Tony, dryly amused, and folds her arms across each other t tap her fingers against her elbow. "Boyscout promise?" she checks.
"Of course you did." Stark glances sidelong at Natasha with a narrowing of his eyes equal parts amused and wary. "You know I never made Eagle scout." He holds his right hand up and tries a few permutations on the right salute. He goes with live long and prosper. "Cross my heart."
"I'm shocked," Natasha answers, desert dry. Her heels click several more steps before she comes to a halt and turns to consider Tony more carefully. "What have you discovered?"
Stark rocks back on his heels as she turns and squares to face her. He lifts her chin. "Mm. Still sifting through data. I'm not sure we've found anything yet. Still looking. Need more samples."
"That's conviently vague, Mr. Stark," Natasha notes, wrapping her fingers around her elbow.
"Well don't throw me in the desert and shoot at me in the hopes of a better one," Stark snarks so very airily. "I realize I may have given you unrealistic expectations, but it takes even me a /little/ time to uncover wonders."
"Mmm." Natasha makes a noncommital sound in the back of her throat as she watches Tony mid-snark. She unlatches her hand from its grip on her elbow and tugs an ID card free from a pocket secreted somewhere on her person. With a neat turn, she slides it into place and leans forward for a retnal scan. Only once the door has swung open before her does she add, "I'm not going to let you take our priceless alien artifacts off SHIELD premises." So saying, she presses her palm against the door, and ushers him in with the swing of her opposite hand.
"You wound me," Stark says, but in the same breath, he adds, "Thank you." Apparently unable to restrain himself, he rubs his hands. "I suppose I can try and make do. Loan me a couple of brain-goons and the work will go faster."
"I can, however, arrange you access to our facilities," Natasha continues, lifting her brows as she tips her head toward the room beyond. Although no Asgardian artifacts are /immediately/ apparent, there does seem to be a good deal of technology. And security. "If you think you can make do."
"Of course." All eyes, all /hands/, Stark immediately starts peering at boxes and crates and looking at everything and anything, especially if it seems like he shouldn't. He's distracted already from what she is saying as he looks over the inventory and searches for the alien toys.
"Said access, of course, comes with the caveat that you share whatever you might uncover with SHIELD." Natasha follows Tony in, letting the door swing shut (and locked) behind them. She doesn't hinder his handsy search, but neither does she offer any guidance - it's pretty likely that the closets and cabinets with the fancy looking locks stand between him and them anyway. "From your toys, as well as ours."
"Yes, yes-- mm?" Stark's absent agreement stalls as he looks back to Natasha. His eyes narrow. Then he says, with absolute focus and precise diction, "I would be delighted to share what I learn of identifying and tracking Asgardian technology with SHIELD."
"Whatever," Natasha repeats, syllables sharp and distinct, "you might learn. On any subject." She settles her hip against the edge of a table, arms folding. "That's the price, Mr. Stark. We share with you. You share with us."
"No." Stark settles firm on his heels and firm in his jaw. His expression is somewhere beyond stubborn: iron. "You get what I learn here. Can't stop you. Won't try. What's mine, however, is mine."
Natasha lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "Then you don't learn anything here." She pushes away from the table, circling to stand in front of him in a posture just short of eye to eye. "You want us to trust you. It's a two way street. I thought maybe you were learning to be a team player, Tony. For the greater good. Was I wrong?"
Stark laughs as she circles and meets her gaze square. "I don't care if you trust me," he says, and maybe lies. Trust him, admire him, respect him, love him: yeah, maybe a lie. "Sure, I like you. I like your boss. I don't know about his bosses. I don't know about this whole thing where you take a power that could change the world and immediately weaponize it. I don't know about nukes in Manhattan. If I don't learn anything, you don't learn anything. That's your greater good."
Natasha's lips twitch into a bit of a smile in response to that laughter, but amusement doesn't carry in her eyes. She considers this for a moment or two, fingers tapping at her elbow again. "All right," she says. "Let's say we leave SHIELD out of it. You report it directly to Fury." She tips her head slightly, brows raised. Better?
"Okay. Then Fury can have all of my information about identifying and tracking Asgardian technology," Stark says with easy agreement, like he isn't sticking to the same old line.
Natasha blows out a breath, and frustration is clear enough in the flash of her green eyes. She studies Stark in silence for a moment, then steps back and shakes her head. "No. As much as I'd love your insight on what we have, it's not enough. This isn't Stark Industries playtime, and you aren't writing the rules. The world is bigger than Tony Stark. If you want us to share, you share alike."
Stark spreads his hands in an easy shrug. In voice, in manner, in truth, he doesn't seem that put out. His line remains firm. "You're asking for data you had no part in and have no right to. I'm willing to play by your rules with your toys -- anyway, can't stop you since it would be your facilities. But I'm more than happy to walk away from this. Pleasure almost doing business with you."
"You're asking for research access to items you had no part in obtaining and have no right to," Natasha echoes with a remarkable mimic of tone and gesture. "You're asking for trust and giving none in return. It's been an educational conversation."
Stark smiles. "It has," he says. "I'll give you that." He gestures at the door, back out, and away from the Mysteries. "Shall we?"
"By all means," Natasha answers dryly, with a similar gesture. "After you."
Stark saunters on out with his hands to his sides. He is remarkably better behaved now that the deal is off the table, as though some implicit permission has been revoked, so now he must show he is a good boy. His expression is distant as he rolls his attention onward to the next possibility. He leaves this one behind and makes token efforts to banter on the way. Something about SHIELD's chastity belts, great temptation, and all delivered with a light gloss of flirt.