An Invitation to Dine
Soulmates accounted for:
Luna: 4/4
Rin: 1/5
. . . well, it looked like I had the plot of a new novel series all set up for myself, didn’t I? A mythological creature and her roommate and their wacky adventures with their Soulmates, set in a dystopian/post-apocalyptic world, just to make things interesting. Throw in a rousing murder mystery and a cast of colorful side characters to lead the heroines astray, and voila, one four part novel series that would sell better than that other four book series that I would rather not name did among the young adult/teen (predominantly) female audience. Who knew, it might even be good.
Luna and I were, well, to put it bluntly, we were sulking. She now knew that all her Soulmates were unoriginal, uninspired dunces, who were willing to resort to blackmail and threats to get what they want, and me? The reason I didn’t buy Stark Tech, the reason I became a hacker—(and a damn sight better than Mr. Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist. He hasn’t hacked in years, he’d been having J.A.R.V.I.S. do it, so for him to be so dubious about my skills—Argh! It’s enough to make a body scream!)—I’d found him alright.
But right, sulking, which meant several days of tea, a lot of chocolate, and live streaming musicals—no sappy romantic movies for us (why would we need one, we’re going to end up living one—or at least the first half of a B-rated rom-com—the happy ending was still up for some debate).
Then one day at about three, there was a knock on our door. Luna didn’t even bother to poke her head out of her blanket cocoon and said, voice only slightly muffled, “I learned my damn lesson, check the cameras. I’m not coming out unless it’s important.”
I stifled a derisive snort and made a grab for one of my nearby tablets. “Do we need a sign that reads, ‘if unimportant, don’t bother’ or something?”
“But then it sounds like we’d be calling other people unimportant.”
“But its’s true.”
“RIN!?”
“What?!”
“Don’t you start that again!” She sighed, “Well, who is it, after all that?”
“It’s . . . Mark, the new doorman?”
“Is there a problem?”
“He’s standing there, hair slicked back with a platter and card on it!—very Downtown Abbey—did you hire a butler and not tell me? I didn’t think we were that pretentious.”
There was some shuffling under Luna’s blankets, and then one eye peered out at me. “Sweetie, even I got it. He’s figured out exactly what you are and is trying way too hard.”
“Oh. Ooh”
“Yes, ‘oh’ is right. Hit the button, let the poor man in.”
Really didn’t have an argument for any of that, so I did, setting my tablet aside and going back to my book. Mark stepped in and shut the door quietly behind him.
“Yes?”
“There’s a visitor for you, ma’am. You and . . . Professor Draconis?”
“Here,” Luna responded to the question in his tone, even going so far as to untangle one arm and flap it in his general direction from the couch. She was always the more polite one; I was being horribly rude, I haven’t even lifted my gaze from my book.
“And?”
“After the um, conversation you had a few days back with the boss after that sales group got past us, we came to the conclusion that it might be better to err on the side of caution and announce all visitors ourselves.”
Salesmen? Is that what we’re calling them? Came Luna’s sarcastic voice down our telepathic link.
Did you want to advertise that we had super-jerks on our doorstep? I shot back before switching gears to reply to Mark aloud. “Do we normally have visitors without informing you beforehand?”
“No, ma’am. But,” he continued hurriedly, as apparently I was starting to glare at my page, “I think this time you might want to, err, make an exception. The card—“
“Well?” I held my hand out imperiously. (What?! I’m rude by nature (usually,) and still in bad mood . . . but still. My bad mood should not be taken out on a third party, especially one who was trying so hard to please me. And I do like it when people please me.)
And how I didn’t pick up on Mark’s orientation, I’ll never understand—apparently I’m becoming arrogant (and oblivious), because he responded to my implicit command with a sharp inhale and his exhale was as shaky as his hands when he held the platter out.
I plucked it up with two fingers, read it, and then nearly dropped my book. “You meant to tell me, that Pepper Potts is here to see us?”
Luna shot upright, blankets starting to fall every which way. “Seriously? Pepper Potts and you left her standing outside?!” Luna and I were on our feet, because Pepper freaking Potts, that kind of brains and competence deserved better attire than pajamas and yoga pants.
“No, no, she’s in Ling’s office; she’s wringing her hands.”
“Potts?!”
“No, Ling. Fussing over the state of her office, not having—the point being, I assume you want her shown up?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Show her up—oh, and, Mark?” I said, stopping mid-step and turning my head over my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“Thank you for not holding my poor mood over my head and delivering the announcement in person.”
The man blushed, mumbled something incomprehensible, and left so quickly, I half-expected to see a trail of flames in his wake.
“’Assuming an apology without actually giving one. Presumptive arrogance which makes you appear the gracious one’, well. Looks like the description is spot on.”
“Shut up and stop reading my manuscripts, Luna!”
“Never!”
I threw my wadded up t-shirt at her (because I’m a grown-up, damnit!) and then went to get dressed to meet one of the most competent and powerful women in the business world.
***
Less than ten minutes later, Pepper Potts was buzzed into the penthouse. In an immaculate off-white pantsuit and with a charming, even disarming smile, it wasn’t hard to see how she got to be one of the most influential and successful businesswomen in the world. “Professor Draconis,” she began, offering her hand to Luna, who shook it with a bemused look on her face, “It’s delightful to meet you in person. Your work with the Juilliard students is incomparable; students who take one of your courses during their university tenure are four times more likely to land Broadway roles than those who hadn’t. And The Phantoms of Manhattan was a masterpiece, I am personally rearranging my schedule so that I can squeeze in another performance.”
Luna blushed, she loved compliments, and it didn’t take an empath to feel Ms. Potts’ sincerity. “It’s Luna, please, Ms. Potts, only my students call me Professor. It’s very nice to meet you, too.”
“Pepper then, please, ‘Ms. Potts’ belongs in the boardroom, not here in your beautiful home. But speaking of homes, it would be rude of me not to greet your roommate.” She turned to me and offered her hand once more. “Ms. Suero, or do you prefer Ueno?”
I shook the CEO’s hand with a small amused smile hovering around the corner of my mouth; I hadn’t decided whether or not I was going to let it bloom into a full smile. “I’m not sure there’s ever been anyone who knew enough to ask that question. As such, I actually have no preference. Though, in the interests of politeness, my name is Rin. Please, have a seat, can we get you something, Ms. Potts; tea, coffee, water?”
“It’s Pepper, and tea, please, if it’s not a bother—“
“Please, don’t finish that sentence. Water’s already hot, and Rin and I, we’re the old fashioned type. It’s all part of being a good hostess and what not,” Luna said, already halfway across the room, “Type?”
“I’m sorry?” Pepper looked perplexed, brow furrowed ever so slightly as she sank gracefully into one of our armchairs.
“Type of tea. We’ve been subsisting on tea more than usual, what with the push to get Phantoms up and running. We have an entire pantry just for tea, what can I get you?”
“Breakfast in Paris? Dash of milk and one sugar, please.”
“Done. Rin?”
“Sencha green, thank you, darling.” Luna shot me a thumbs up and went off to make tea. I sat down across from Pepper Potts and within a few minutes, Luna brought the tray and served out three different kinds of tea before settling down herself. For a few minutes, nothing was said as we enjoyed our tea, but then Luna and I shared a look before setting our cups down in sync, the clink of china ringing with all the finality of a gavel. Something Pepper obviously picked up, because she too laid her cup aside.
“Truth time, is it?” She asked, rhetorically, we all knew what was going to happen next. Pepper reached into her purse and pulled out a cream colored envelope which she handed to Luna. Luna, in turn, opened it and scanned the contents. Whatever she’d read, it made her frown as she passed it to me.
“What is this?!” Luna inquired, tone too carefully modulated to not be hiding her irritation. A sentiment I could only agree with when I realized what I was holding was a handwritten invitation to dinner in Avenger’s Tower. I put the paper down and raised an eyebrow. This was beginning to look a little like a setup. And that was just not okay.
“Quite frankly, it’s a plea for help.” And then of course, she said the one thing that would make us at least listen, Luna as the Dreki who can’t really refuse anyone asking for help, and then me who was at very least curious. Luna leaned forward, her concern evident and I sat back, intrigued but not quite willing to admit it. I made ‘continue’ gesture and Pepper let out a sigh; she obviously hadn’t been optimistic about her chances that we’d get here. With that long breath, I also realized how jumbled her thoughts had been because they suddenly slowed down and became more like words and not the white noise I’d previously thought. Apparently, I was getting better at not listening; so much so that there were moments that I almost forgot I was a telepath. Almost.
“First, I’ll begin with my most sincere apologies.” At our puzzled looks, Pepper elaborated, “The events earlier this week. If I’d been in country, then perhaps your first official meeting with prof—Luna’s Soulmates might have gone very differently. I managed to pry the whole story out of Steve and Tony, and so the attempt at blackmail, well. My apologies aren’t enough, but they’re all I’ve got.”
“And thus we come to the part where I came to plead for your help. Since they left here, things have not gone well. Tony is, he’s being Tony, getting more and more wrapped up in his work, not eating or sleeping, and drinking, I’m worried for him. The others are no better; Steve’s barely left the training rooms in days, the number of punching bags he’s broken is astronomical; Loki is . . . . plotting something, I won’t even ask; and Thor, he’s the worst.”
“What’s he doing?” Luna asked grudgingly when Pepper stopped.
“Nothing. He is literally doing nothing. In the time I’ve known him, that man, god, warrior, he is never still. He is never not doing anything, but right now he’s moping. Nothing I say, or any of the rest of the Avengers has tried is working, on any of them. In many ways, this visit is my ‘Hail Mary’, my last resort. Would you please come to dinner and at very least get Tony off the floor of his workshop? By any means necessary, I honestly don’t care how.”
Luna and I shared a long look. We didn’t even have to say anything, aloud or telepathically. This was her call, and I’d back her regardless of her choice. Then Pepper offered one final enticement, “It’s Italian tonight, if that affects your decision any.”
Luna smiled and turned back to our guest, “We’ll come for dinner. Free food, in Avengers Tower, I’m down for that. The invitation said six?”
The relief on Pepper’s face was plain. “Yes, dinner’s at six, but if perhaps you could come a little early to get Tony off the floor?”
“We’ll be there by say, five then? Just to be safe. You didn’t tell them you were coming here?” I offered, now willing to be a part of the conversation. When Pepper shook her head, I continued, “Don’t tell them. We’ll surprise them; knock them out of their funk. Is it dinner with all the Avengers?”
“No, I don’t think so. Sam’s at a V.A. conference, he’s not due back for another two days. Bruce isn’t leaving his lab for the moment what with Tony being, well, Tony. And I’m not sure where our resident spies are actually.”
“Ah. Very well then. Do you want us to use the front door?”
“Pardon?” Her face at the non sequitur!
“Please, I sincerely doubt you of all people don’t know who and what we are. Using the front door would be a courtesy, I’m asking whether you’d prefer we us it? Otherwise we’re liable to just drop in and set off who knows how many alarms, unless I hack them first.”
“Rin’s not actually trying to be rude, I promise.” Luna stepped in, a habit she was used to when it came to me. Intensity and awkwardness didn’t always make for pleasant interactions with most people. “She’s just asking a legitimate question, given our situation and who and what we are. Something I, or rather we, think you must know by now.”
“I would prefer you use the front door, if you please. The alarms don’t need testing right now.” Pepper returned diplomatically, “I’ll see you both for dinner then?”
“We’ll be there.”