Chapter 37
As it turned out, Stark was less upset about the ruining of his armor than he was about the SHIELD doctor who insisted he stay overnight for observation.
“He doesn’t like hospitals,” Potts had explained as she submitted to being looked over by the SHIELD medical staff for small scratches, all with the sort of grace her employer had not shown.
“He screamed about refusing to be used as a lab monkey as he went,” Peggy replied, her arched eyebrow somewhat marred by the bandage covering a shallow but bloody scratch there.
“He might have overreacted,” Potts conceded with no small amount of exhaustion. “Honestly, Rhodey could barely get him to agree to get checked out after Afghanistan.
Peggy could only roll her eyes, thoroughly unimpressed by Stark’s insistence that he was fine. “What about the reactor in his chest?”
Potts paled slightly as she twisted her fingers in her lap, clearly uncomfortable. “I think he’s asked if the agents won’t get the one in Obadiah’s suit for him. That was the one he built when he got back, I guess Obi stole it.”
“I am sure arrangements can be made, especially as it keeps him alive.”
“Thank you,” Potts murmured, gratefully, glancing to the staff member who finally cleared her for little more than a nasty scratch on the back of her hand. She hopped off the table, unsure of what to do. “I should, maybe, go in and look after him. He’s going to be hell on the nurses if I don’t.”
“Of course,” Peggy assured her, realizing the woman more than anything just wanted to get back to Stark and assure herself with her own eyes that he was fine. She watched her walk down the hall to where they took Stark, considering both Pepper Potts and the entire long night quietly.
“She all right?” Coulson wandered up beside Peggy, watching Potts as well with speculative worry.
“Seems to be. She’s more worried about Stark.”
“Not surprised. I wonder if she realizes just how crazy she is for him.”
“Mmm, she’s probably about as oblivious as he is.”
That took Coulson by surprise. “You think Stark is in love with her?”
“Stranger things have happened. After all, his father fell in love with his mother.”
“Fair,” Coulson admitted, sipping from a styrofoam cup of what Peggy presumed was coffee. “Just Stark’s always been the love ‘em and leave ‘em kind.”
“Any man can change,” Peggy murmured, thinking of all the reports and articles Cassandra had poured through, of the childish, playboy genius who had vented his angst and ennui through various acts of public drunkenness and excess, delighting in his wealth and high flying lifestyle, living like he was king of the world. The man she saw tonight, holding on for dear life, roaring at Potts to overload the reactor, even if it almost certainly meant his death, that was a very different Tony Stark. Who he was before he went into the cave was not the man he was now. There was something rather Platonic about that, this evolution. Perhaps Tony Stark was finally evolving to become his real, truest self.
“I think Howard would be proud of him,” Peggy quietly stated, glancing at Coulson. “I wish he could see him.”
“Me too,” Coulson admitted. “But he’s still kind of a dick, in my opinion.”
Whether it was the vulgarity being uttered by Coulson of all people or the lateness of the hour, Peggy could not help the hysterical peel of laughter that broke out of her, burbling forth much to Coulson’s quiet bemusement. She wished she could explain it, but she couldn’t. She giggled and snickered till tears crept down her face and Coulson mildly suggested that they get back to their hotel and get some rest.
It was far too late before they both crawled back, exhausted. Peggy didn’t even recall removing her now-soiled clothes or climbing into the soft embrace of her rather fine bed. She didn’t move again until her dratted phone went off once more, buzzing loud enough to pull her from the haze of sleep.
“Carter,” she grunted, answering the phone blind to who it was on the other end.
“Hate to wake you, but you’ll want to be up.” Coulson sounded bright-eyed and chipper and Peggy hated him violently in that moment. “The media is all over the Stark story.”
Peggy groaned, loudly. “Right, I’m up. I’ll be downstairs in half an hour.”
How she managed to be showered, dressed, and her ever-presentable self, she didn’t know. While she still indulged in the pin-curl look some days, today was the sleek layers that Sharon had convinced her to get, and she was grateful for that because drying and brushing were all she could manage. Decidedly less shabby in her suit, she met Coulson in the lobby where he held out a cup of straight black coffee to her. “Sorry about this, Director.”
“Can’t be helped, I suppose.” She stifled a yawn, sipping from the paper cup and leaving behind a crimson stain. “They were bound to find out. It’s been so long since they have seen anything of Stark, they are like lions eyeing Daniel.”
“Stark is holding a press conference to try and head it off. We’ve been working with SI’s PR team and Colonel Rhodes to help formulate an explanation.”
“What have you got?” Outside the hotel, Solarzano and his large, black SUV waited. He held the door open for Peggy, offering a hand so she could climb in with her coffee in her grip, a thoughtful gesture she appreciated.
Coulson clambered in beside her before continuing. “Everyone is already assuming it is some special, secret project that Stark and the Army are creating, so Rhodes is going to diffuse that situation first. Then Stark will make a statement to the effect that there was a prototype of robotic technology that failed, causing damage to the Arc Reactor. As for Stark’s armor, we are spreading the rumor it is part of his security team and that he was tasked with trying to bring the situation under control.”
Peggy thought the story sounded weak at best. “What about Stane?”
“The story being put around is that Stane is on an extended trip and can’t be reached for comment. Stark on the other hand was on his private yacht in Catalina last night. We’ve whipped up some witness affidavits and photos to spread about that show the vessel in Avalon harbor, clearing him from any knowledge or involvement in the incident.”
Peggy still didn’t like it. “So we are just going to...make a whole cloth story and hope it sticks?”
“We are spies, Director, it’s what we do.”
“Carter,” she corrected him, somewhat grumpily, pulling from her coffee. “What does Stark have to say about this?”
Here Coulson faltered. “Haven’t told him yet.”
Peggy figured as much. This was the flimsy sort of story that wouldn’t hold a ton of water should someone shine a true light on it, but in fairness, the truth was far too outlandish to be believed. “I suppose we’ll have to hope he can sell this.”
“Tony Stark, the most charismatic billionaire in America? If he can’t sell this, I don’t know who can.”
Peggy shrugged, feeling impish in her grumpy state. “Twenty dollars says he will muck it up.”
Coulson’s eyes lit up at the challenge. “You think because Barton got me with that karaoke suckers bet that I would agree to throw money away like that?”
“You are the one sounding so confident, put your money where your mouth is.”
Solarzano in the seat ahead of her whistled, glancing back at them in the rearview mirror with undisguised delight.
Coulson chewed his tongue, torn between amusement and annoyance. “Fine, but I stand by what I said.”
“I like a man of conviction,” Peggy laughed, saluting him with her beverage. Coulson grimaced, looking as if he sorely regretted making that bet.
They made it to the Stark Industries campus in a relatively timely fashion despite the traffic. Solarzano flashed his badge at the gate, which was even more heavily protected than before, pulling into the drive. In the full light of day, Peggy could see the abject destruction of the previous night; the blown-out windows, the piles of swept-up glass, the giant hole in the middle of the pavement roped off with yellow tape tied to orange cones. Bits of the building roofline had been blown off, likely by Stane as he attempted to fire missiles at Tony, with concrete chunks littering the ground.
“They did a number on this place,” Solarzano observed as he pulled around to where the media gathered in the same building they had at Stark’s return months ago. Security was much thicker today, made up of a combination of LAPD and SHIELD agents as well as the odd, slightly stunned Stark Industries employee. Solarzano pulled up to the curb, parking to let them out.
Coulson had slipped his sunglasses on, pulling on the stoic look he used when he was in his agent mode. Peggy hardly felt it necessary, but still didn’t look at the press as she marched inside, blinking as they got into the main room. This time it was filled with chairs for reporters to sit in and they all murmured together, chatting over coffee and baked goods, bored as they waited for the main event to get into the room.
“Director Carter, Agent Coulson,” a smiling young woman, likely a Stark employee, greeted them. “Miss Potts asked me to look for you. Come this way to the green room, Mr. Stark is waiting.”
“Thank you,” Peggy murmured, following the woman down a hallway to rooms blocked off by extra security. She led them both past the guards and into the space crowded with people, including a clique of what looked like SHIELD agents conferring with Stark’s PR, Colonel Rhodes in his dress uniform, and the man Peggy had recognized before as Hogan, Stark’s driver, someone she had yet to technically meet.
“Director!” Rhodes grinned happily at the sight of her. “Agent Coulson, it’s a pleasure to see the both of you again.”
“We couldn’t miss this,” Coulson quipped, dryly. “We were happy to help and be there.”
“I’m damn glad you were. Tony might have ended up dead if not for you.” Rhodes glanced back to the room she was certain Stark was in. “I found him after Stane got there and had stolen his Arc Reactor. He’d crawled down to his lab to get the old one he’d made in that cave.”
“He’s nothing if not a survivor,” Hogan gravely chimed in. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and beefy, like Solarzano, with a jaw of granite and an accent not totally unlike the one Steve and Bucky both had, slightly more nasal than Howard’s, which she guessed pinned him as a New Yorker, but from Brooklyn or Queens. He looked shaken indeed as he nodded at Rhodes with the sort of gravity one expected at a funeral. “You know, for all of his bullshit, Tony is a fighter, and he’s too damn smart to go down.”
“Yeah, well he nearly did last night.” Rhodes was not as reverential about it at all. “Obadiah...God that floors me. Tony’s gutted. He won’t say it, but he is.”
“In a million years, I wouldn’t have seen it coming,” Hogan echoed, scowling and solemn. “Tony thought of him as family. He takes that seriously.”
Coulson interjected himself with careful understanding. “There was no way you could have known. We believe he’d been working behind the scenes in Stark Industries for decades, perhaps since Howard Stark brought him on.”
“Still,” Hogan insisted, grimly. “How could anyone miss it for this long?”
“People see what they want to see,” Peggy said, cutting to the heart of the matter. It was a truth she knew and understood intimately well. It had served her in her investigations over the years. It surprised her little that Stane had employed the same tactic. “No one wanted to see that the man who Howard Stark trusted with his son and his company was anything other than a good, decent man, so they didn’t. That was all the cover he needed.”
It was food for thought for Hogan, who Peggy understood was Stark’s bodyguard. Perhaps this would make him more cautious in the future. Beside him, Rhodes roused, looking at his watch ruefully. “Well, I’m the first one up in this circus. Again, I can’t thank you all enough for what you’ve done to help us out.”
“A pleasure, Colonel,” Peggy assured him, as he moved to the cluster of people for final notes before he left to take the podium. Peggy looked to Hogan. “Is Mr. Stark inside? We hoped to speak with him.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” His ruddy cheeks flushed as he led the way in his dark suit, a looming shadow. He knocked on the wood-paneled double doors before opening them, peeking a head inside.
“I got SHIELD here, boss, they’d like to chat with you.”
“I haven’t shaken those guys yet?” Stark wasn’t even bothering to hide his irritation. Peggy found herself grinning at that, a ghost of a memory of another time rising to the fore.
“Don’t be rude,” Potts admonished him, coming to the door to look around Hogan’s broad shoulder. “Agent Coulson, Director Carter, it’s so lovely to see you!”
For the other woman’s part, Peggy could tell that her response at least was genuine. Their efforts last night had strangely bonded them, and she opened the door wider to let them into Stark’s inner sanctum. His private rooms were a staging area, looking like more a conference room than anything else. A television was set up to show the live feed from the local news of the press conference, while Stark, battered and bruised but none the worse for wear, sat in a folding director’s chair, sipping from a cup of coffee and skimming a newspaper, one with a black-and-white photo of what Peggy presumed was his suit of armor, complete with helmet. The visage was vaguely robotic, and while not as terrifying as Stane’s, it was still formidable. He’d evolved it a great deal in the months since his return.
He didn’t even bother to look up at either of them as he read his paper, much to Potts’ chagrin. “The paper overblows everything. They said we backed up traffic for miles along the 405 Freeway.”
“You did back up traffic for miles, and the same up and down La Cienega, where they had to put out a burning bus.”
“That was not on me,” he protested, mildly as Potts dug through what appeared to be a makeup case, pulling out a compact. “I was trying to mitigate losses.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean traffic wasn’t backed up over it.”
“It’s LA, traffic is backed up on any day that ends in Y.” He finally folded down his paper enough to look at Peggy and Coulson. “So, I guess I have to now be debriefed by the Spooks, is that what this is?”
“Spooks would be CIA, Mr. Stark, we are much more terrifying than that,” Coulson deadpanned in his polite manner. “And if you’d spoken to us in the first place, perhaps a lot of this could have been avoided.”
“Mmm, yeah, or SHIELD could have just arrested him when they found out he had something to do with it.” Despite his lackadaisical expression, there was heat in his words, however misplaced.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Stark, SHIELD is an international agency with a UN charter, not a United States federal one.” Peggy cut in smoothly, knowing the intricacies of this far too well from her experience forming the dratted charter in the first place. “We would need evidence with which to go to a judge to execute a warrant and without one of those we can’t just barging into a private citizen's house and drag him out of it. Besides, we couldn’t trust that you wouldn’t have come to his defense with a bevy of highly paid lawyers and undermined any investigation we did. We had to hope we could present the evidence to you and work in concert to take steps together. But, you are a hard man to get a hold of.”
Stark eyed her, realizing she was right and that he had been an architect of his downfall in this. It took a long moment before he nodded, shrugging and returning to his paper. “Fair, I suppose.”
Potts rolled her eyes and shot Peggy an apologetic look as at the door, a younger SHIELD agent called for Coulson. He held up a hand to acknowledge them before making his excuses. “Apologies, let me confer with the team. They are finishing up final notes now.”
Peggy watched him go, glancing at the screen where Colonel Rhodes was already at the podium, speaking to the gathered reporters. In his formal, perfunctory tones he recited the official military line on the incident, giving a no-nonsense description that should at least mollify the press. For his part, Stark paid little attention, keeping up a running chatter as Potts began to touch up his man bruises with foundation and powder, covering them up so as not to make them visible for the cameras.
“Iron Man, that’s kind of catchy! It’s got a nice ring to it,” he observed as Potts leaned in to carefully remove a tiny bandage that lay across the bridge of his nose, a leftover from the night before. “Although it’s not technically accurate, you see, it’s a gold-titanium alloy.”
He winced as Potts pulled the adhesive strip off with an audible, peeling sound.
“But, it’s kind of evocative imagery anyway.” he finished as she threw the bandage away, just as Coulson returned with a pair of notecards completed from the SHIELD and SI PR teams.
“Here is your alibi,” Coulson gave by way of explanation, no-nonsense as he held them under Stark’s bruised nose.
“Okay,” Stark accepted them as Potts set on him with her makeup and sponge, trying to cover the worst of the damage of the night before.
Coulson quickly filled in the details. “You were out on your yacht.”
“Yeah,” Stark listened, tossing his paper aside.
“We have port papers that put you in Avalon all night as well as sworn statements from 50 of your guests.”
“I was thinking that maybe we could just say that it was just Pepper and me, you know...alone, on the yacht.”
His obvious effort at flirting and humor only earned a dry look from his assistant, who merely reached for the bandage across his right eyebrow and pulled it ruthlessly, likely taking hair with it. It hurt, but he turned to grin up at her, unashamed. Her responding glare only delighted him more.
“That’s the story,” Coulson reaffirmed.
“All right,” Stark agreed, studying the card.
“Just read it word-for-word.”
He frowned as he flipped through them, dark eyes scanning the blue cards. “There is nothing about Stane.”
“That’s being handled,” Coulson reassured him bluntly. “He’s on vacation. Small aircraft have such a poor safety record.”
Peggy knew the double meaning in his words and it admittedly left her feeling slightly chilled he could deliver such news so coldly. For all of his heart, Coulson could have a ruthless streak she observed, as Stark’s lightening quick mind processed that.
“Yeah, but what about the whole cover story that he’s my bodyguard? He’s my...bodyguard...I mean, is that...it’s kind of flimsy, don’t you think?”
Peggy knew he’d see through it. She tried not to shoot Coulson a triumphant look, even as he met Stark’s doubt with quiet reassurance. “It’s not my first rodeo, Mr. Stark. Just stick to the official statement and soon all of this will be behind you.”
Stark didn’t like it, but he did at least thoughtfully look down at his notes as Coulson eyed the screen with Rhodes at the podium. “You’ve got 90 seconds.”
He turned to leave as Potts looked around in mild panic at the screen. Peggy made to follow him, but Potts turned back around, calling for Coulson, pulling him aside for a moment, leaving Peggy with Stark. For his part, he was busy with the cards and paid little attention to her standing there. For a long moment she watched him, his brow furrowed as he reviewed his lines. Howard used to do the same thing when studying his notes, committing things to memory. Still, in a million years she couldn’t have imagined Howard doing what his son did the night before, sacrificing himself to keep a greater evil from taking control of his family’s company and causing even greater death and destruction than it already had. Peggy doubted Howard would have had the fortitude to stop any of it in the first place, let alone take a stand on principle and fight for it the way Tony had.
“You know,” Stark finally said, not even looking up at her. “I have to admit you intrigue me...Director Carter, is it?”
She was surprised he remembered her name at all. Perhaps he’d heard Potts calling her that. “Yes.”
He glanced up, looking her over briefly before nodding to himself. “You aren’t who I would expect. I mean, Coulson over there, he’s an agency man, but you are something different and I can’t put my finger on what it is.”
She shrugged, unsure as to what he was getting at. “I’ve been with SHIELD for a long time. I don’t know if there is anything inherently different about me.”
“No?” He didn’t sound so sure. “For what it is worth, in case I don’t see you again, and I doubt I ever will, let me take the opportunity to say...thank you, for what you did to get me out of there. I mean, well I got me out of there, but for helping people find me once I did it. You didn’t need to and I can at least show my gratitude when it is called for...which admittedly isn’t often, but as vain as I am I’m not a complete jerk about it.”
Peggy thankfully could speak Stark and knew this was his fumbling way of showing appreciation. “I did need to, Mr. Stark...for an old friend. It was my pleasure to do it.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised his quicksilver mind latched on to that. “An old friend?”
As much as she wanted to say more, she knew it was unwise to do so. “He once spent a great deal of time and effort looking for someone I loved and cared for. He never found him. The least I could do in return was find the one thing he cherished above anything else. I’m glad you are home safe.”
Her words only seemed to mystify him more as she turned on her heel, fearing she’d already given too much away. Potts had finished with Coulson and smoothing down her simple, black dress went over to grab Stark’s suit jacket as Peggy made to follow Coulson out of the room and back out into the hall where the media gathered.
“Stark okay with his lines,” Coulson inquired.”
“I believe so,” Peggy replied, glancing back at him as Potts adjusted Stark's pocket handkerchief. The room full of agents and PR had wandered out already, leaving them to find their places by themselves.
“Well, if he does what we ask him to, the whole thing with this Iron Man business will be shut down, the media will move on to something else, and he will now owe SHIELD one for all of our assistance. That is a perfect opportunity to approach him with the Avengers Initiative.”
He wasn’t wrong, and Peggy knew that was what Coulson was trying to set up, but she had a feeling that none of this was going to run anywhere nearly as perfectly as Coulson was envisioning it. “I don’t know if that is going to work as smoothly as you would like.”
“I mean, perhaps not, Stark is a narcissist, but clearly, last night showed he has a heroic and honorable side to him, even if it’s deep down. If we speak to that, he will come around.”
“Oh, I don’t deny he has an honorable streak in him, but I also believe he’s worked for a long time by himself doing things exactly how he wants. The problem with geniuses and great mean is that they think too big for other normal people to keep up, and he has little patience with anyone who can’t.”
“Which is why you need Steve Rogers. He could keep up.”
“Mmmm,” Peggy hummed, ignoring the leap of bittersweet hope and longing that came with the mention of Steve’s name. “Steve can keep up, but he’s not as jaded as Tony already is. They can balance one another out, but getting them to that point will be difficult. It’s a bit like yoking two stubborn oxen together.”
“That’s why we have you.” Coulson eyed her with supreme confidence, an assured smile on his face. “I can’t think of a person who could manage either of them better. You’ve got this, Peggy. When you have them both, you’ll see.”
His utter faith in her nearly floored Peggy. She flushed, shocked to silence at his conviction. When she did find words, she could only keep it simple. “Thank you, Phil.”
“I don’t say that lightly.” He motioned to a spot along the wall, about where they stood the last time they were in this hall months ago. Not long after they settled, Stark himself walked out, his pale green silk tie straightened and his collar buttoned, looking smooth and put together. Behind the podium, Rhodes was finishing his statement and making an introduction for Stark.
“And now Mr. Stark has prepared a statement,” Rhodes read, glancing to where Tony sauntered around the far edge of the room, making his way to the stage. “He will not be taking any questions.”
Peggy eyed Coulson at that pronouncement. He shrugged. “We thought it would be easier if he didn’t. Keeps our story straight.”
Oh that was not going to work, Peggy thought. Trying to muzzle a Stark when there were microphones and cameras around was next to impossible.
Tony made his way to where Rhodes stood, confident, but subdued in a way that didn’t suit him. Still, he took to the podium as if he owned it, quietly reading the room. “Uh..it’s been a while since I was in front of you, I figured I would stick to the cards this time.”
A general rumble of laughter rippled through the room of reports as cameras flashed and whirled. Tony found his cards, glancing over them once more briefly, clearing his throat before he began. “There has been speculation that I was involved in the events that happened on the freeway and the rooftop…”
He paused to scratch nervously at his goatee, leaving an opening for a reporter in the very front row, a blonde woman, to hold her hand up rather pointedly, purposely grabbing for Stark's attention despite Rhodes’ warning. Without a buy-your-leave, she let her question pour out, catching Tony somewhat by surprise.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, do you honestly expect us to believe that that was a bodyguard in a suit,” she sneered, dubious as she lowered her arm. “That conveniently appeared despite the fact…”
She was egging him, Peggy noted, as Tony met the reporter with a smirking frown. “I know that it’s confusing...it is one thing to question the official story and another thing entirely to make wild accusations or to insinuate that I’m a superhero.”
Coulson beside Peggy stilled, the color draining from his face. “What is he doing?”
Peggy wasn’t sure. Nothing about that reporter’s question insinuated that not in anything she said, and Peggy suspected he knew that. “I warned you.”
“I never said you were a superhero,” the reporter shot back, unphased by Stark or his hubris.
“You didn’t,” he asked, fumbling for words.
“Hun-uh” she vocalized, affirming her statement, which only caused him to fumble more.
“Well good, because that would be outlandish and fantastic.” He returned to his cards, but only briefly before bursting out again. “I’m just not the hero type, clearly, with this laundry list of character defects, all the mistakes I’ve made, largely public.”
As he dug himself in deeper, Rhodes leaned in, trying desperately to right the ship again, even as Stark flailed. Their brief conversation seemed to center him again as he took a deep breath, holding up his cards once more. He scanned the room, the words, so carefully prepared for him not coming.”
“Why isn’t he just reading the card,” Coulson whispered, frantically.
Peggy knew why. It was a lie, and unlike his father, Tony Stark was not precisely a fan of lying. He’d never had to grow up with them like Howard had just to survive. Consequently, he struggled now. From what little she knew of Tony Stark, he lived his life out there, loud and big, and to hide who he was just wasn’t something he did. She knew what he was going to do even before he did it.
“The truth is,” he began, pausing again, eyes flickering upwards. For the briefest of moments, his eyes landed on Peggy, something gleeful lurking, turning into the hint of a smirk. “The truth is...I am Iron Man.”
The entire room exploded into pandemonium. Reporters leaped from their chairs, rushing the stage. Rhodes turned to stare at him as if he’d lost his mind. Beside her, Coulson’s jaw dropped, one of the few times she had ever seen the man so gobsmacked. He worked it up and down, like a fish, before turning to Peggy, stunned.
“That...that wasn’t what he was supposed to say!”
“No,” Peggy agreed, both amused and fatalistic in equal measure. “No, that wasn’t.”
Coulson’s jaw snapped shut, anger turning his expression hard. “We need to fix this.”
Peggy sighed. She knew this would be hard for Coulson to hear, but hear it he must. “No, you don’t.”
“But...this was supposed to be secret.”
“I learned long ago that trying to get a Stark to keep a secret is like trying to ask the tides to change or the sun not to rise. It is what it is, Coulson. Best we accept that and move on. Time for Plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Let him have his moment in the sun and ask him plainly to be an Avenger, none of this pussyfooting around and covering things up for him to make him feel obligated to do it. He’s determined to be his own man, free from SHIELD’s control, that's what this little stunt is all about. If that is the case, we will ask him nicely to play ball.”
“And if he says no?”
“You've got to ask him the right way. Appeal to his ego and his sense of honor and duty. He will come along.”
Coulson didn't look as if he was so sure that would work as much as Peggy thought it would.
“Besides,” she smiled, taking his arm and tugging him away from the bedlam of the press conference. “You owe me $20 now, so pay up.”
Coulson sighed, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. It was slim and compact, just the size for a special agent to carry discreetly. He pulled out a single, crip bill and handed it over to her. She took it gratefully, slipping it inside her purse.
“You knew he wasn’t going to play ball.”
“I suspected. He is too smart for the sort of espionage games we play. Starks are never strategic or tactical, it’s not their forte, but they can cut through bullshit faster than anyone I’ve seen, and I knew that this would rankle with him. So no, I’m not surprised, but I must admit he did it with flair.”
“Flair is a word for it,” Coulson complained, loudly. “I call it being an asshole.”
“Ahhh, well, you’ll find with Starks those two are often the same thing,” Peggy laughed as they went to meet with Solarzano and the car.