affairs

[in_extremis]

WHO: Anyone in or around Stark Industries, and the boss himself
WHERE: The very normal offices of SI, in The City
WHAT: Kind of an SI catchall, come do your business, this can be a mingle. Make a note if you're mingling or actually talking to Tony.
WHEN: Early Super Heroics event
WARNINGS: We abide by the comics code around here! I'll let you know if anything changes. This Tony is 'unaware' of his alcoholism, so tread lightly if that's a concern.


a. Boardroom [Open to anyone who could get on the schedule!]
This was the worst hangover that Tony could remember. Not that he clearly remembered most of them, but this one had to be bad--it had definitely been a long time since he felt so crushingly aware of the weight in his chest, struggling to catch his breath against the indifferent squeeze of the chestplate and around the useless, scarred limits of his lungs. Labouring to sit up left him sweating against the headboard like it was a whole morning jog, hand over the glow of the RT until he remembered how to breathe. The reliable morning cure stirred into his first coffee would fix that bug.

The kitchen was already fragrant with the fresh drip as Tony came shuffling through, ready for him to stare longingly at the filling pot with the waiting bottle of whiskey as he scrolled through the schedule on his phone without really looking at it. Someone had been diligently updating it as the morning ticked on, rearranging early meetings and quietly recording his time as 'R&D' as arranged for all of the times he abruptly left the office out of the sky-high windows. Development, it could be argued, was kind of happening, though the research had been thoroughly covered at this point. When Tony finally had the life-giving cup poured, he topped it with a generous splash of the outrageously expensive rye, then was blearily retrieving a carton of cream to finish it with a dollop, leaving him staring down into the swirl of fading white in the black coffee in bewilderment. He didn't even know he had cream. He watched the colour feather out a moment longer before taking up the mug to gulp carelessly, then the pot as well to bring along with him into the shower. It was about time he made his way to the office.

It was with a paper cup yet that Tony came tearing into the underground parking of the Stark Industries tower, one hand on the wheel and the other juggling his Starbucks and phone as he watched for who to expect on his way through the building. The subtle indicator of the chestplate's power ticked over to a shocking 98%, so he must have had it plugged in at some point last night and couldn't have been making entirely terrible choices. By the time he made it up to the executive suites, he was visibly wired (not the charging kind), impatiently glancing around for the first person he knew he could trust with a quick touch up for these bruises before he let himself into his twenty-minutes-ago meeting.

It was going to be fine. He was the perfectly coiffed and intimidatingly poised face of the company that he was supposed to be as he entered the meeting room with the disarmingly confident grin designed to make someone forget about any tough questions. "My apologies, let me get you a drink." Distracted by how to best duck around the people he knew would engage him in conversation as he made his way up, he had forgotten to check the ever adapting schedule.

b. Cafeteria [Open to employees or visitors!]
"Look out!"

A cat went bolting through the 'tearoom' cafeteria, 24th floor and typically kept muffled quiet behind the clear stretch of glass overlooking the lush botanical lab several stories below, the vines creeping up through the chamber toward the sunlight. The animal galloped silently across the imported carpets and wove deftly around tables and legs, but behind it rushed a much less nimble porter-bot. It upended tables, knocked into people trying to have their break or read through reports over a hot matcha, and stumbled through the deeper pile of the carpet until it was wheeling, thoroughly out of control, into the multi-story sheet of glass. Someone shrieked a warning over the chiming of rolling cutlery, but it wasn't enough to stop the bot from crashing its head into the window. It slumped, with a buzzing groan, to the ground, while a crack crept its way slowly up the glass.

The cat leapt up onto an abandoned seat where a pot of milk had been upended, head tilted slyly as it slowly cleaned a paw. The collar it wore brightened slightly as a cool voice said, "I tried asking nicely."

"They're not designed to be nice," Tony said of the sparking porter-bot as he came to stand over the cat, hands on his hips and frowning. He was out of his jacket by then, sleeves rolled up and knuckles already nicked, but had dutifully exchanged his shoes for slippers as he stepped into the tearoom and the crisis unfolded, despite the croissants now crushed into the carpets.

c. Outside+Presentation Hall [OTA, the doors are wide open]
The eldest of the scientists standing nervously beside their display units throughout the afternoon could have been 11, maybe 12. Most of the work didn't look nearly so juvenile; even the odd volcano experiment was much more than it seemed, and interested parties were solemnly handed protective goggles before they were invited to check the results for themselves. There was plenty of room in the hall and courtyard for the offerings to sprawl, some of them taking advantage of the room with massive tanks of water or winding tracks, most of the students offered the funding to explore their concepts and bring to the Stark Junior Expo unable to complete, or putting the money into more immediate needs. There seemed to be less kids every year. Tony tapped restlessly against his chest as he surveyed the hall from the edge of the stage where he sat, kicking his feet and squinting through his sunglasses out at the sunny yard. He knew most of the people weaving their way through the displays with their tablets, tallying marks for the final awards, but the event organizers tried to invite new faces every year and plenty of them were people Tony hadn't even met yet. Like the gal with the dreadlocks who kept on shooting him shy glances as she rounded an endcap nearest to him, clearly waiting for an introduction and the chance to explain her research on space debris. Or the one that hadn't taken her glasses off all afternoon, either, and had yet to look at her tablet as far as Tony could tell, keeping her face turned away from him as she moved throughout the space so he couldn't quite place her in the manifest.

"Mr. Stark. Hi. Greetings," Dr. Dreadlocks said breathlessly, surprising him out of his contemplation and into smiling warmly.

"Tony, please," he insisted, and missed the nameless judge slipping out of sight and behind the stage.

d. Reception [This is just the wildcard option]
There may be some very noninvasive security recording what you had for dinner last night based on the protein structure of your sweat as you walk through the doors, but the public facing entrance to the Stark Industries building is open, bright and welcoming, all glass and gold with the reassuring sound of a bubbling fountain coming from somewhere out of sight, and fragrant with carefully manicured gardens built into the clean edges. A smiling receptionist is ready to greet you and answer all manner of friendly questions. Much of this hall is open to tourists, some camera flashes already popping nearby, but were you looking for something in particular?

Comments

A!

[beholding_archivist]

"Thank you, Mr. Stark. I have already been provided with tea, coffee and- Donuts." The last word is spoken with a certain degree of distaste. Jonathan Sims, Head of the Magnus Institute, regards the plate of colorful offerings with a single, pointedly raised brow for the fracture of a moment before redirecting his attention to Stark. He doesn't raise from the seat he has been offered nearly half an hour ago. Which isn't necessarily a display of politeness, but rather made mandatory by the comparably small mothcat clinging to his lap and seemingly attempting to press itself as close as possible to his form.

The mothcat's fur is a pure white, as is the fur of all of Jon's mothcats. Their tailfeathers are also white with vibrant green eyes at their tips that matches the animals' eyecolors. Their wings are a translucent pastel green with false golden eyes on them. All in all Jon has brought roughly a dozen of his mothcats along for this meeting, which may still be just a fraction of the animals the man calls his own. The remaining creatures are scattered across the room, some napping on assorted chairs, a few lounging at the ceiling or walls and one occupying itself by gracefully wandering from one high back of a chair to the next, inspecting the room. Should Tony be looking for the Countess, Jon's oldest and only light green mothcat, she is currently occupying Tony's chair, waiting for the man to very bodily greet him with her affections.

Jon runs a hand idly through the feline's fur and subtly raises his shoulders in what may count as a greeting. He himself is dressed in an immaculately tailored white suit, completed by a green tie that matches his eyes. "I assume we can finally begin this meeting."

[in_extremis]

Some preparation for this particular encounter would have been ideal. The distinctive voice had Tony imperceptively hesitating at the door, eyes briefly closed to steel himself before he was throwing a sharp look over his shoulder at the secretary that smiled sweetly in the hall behind him and couldn't be accused of not doing everything she was capable of, despite how much Tony wanted to. It all happened in the beat he took to gently close the door behind him and contain whatever creepy shit Sims had brought along to accost him with this time.

The animals were to be expected, but that didn't stop Tony from frowning his displeasure at just how many of them there were and how little room that left him to not leave here in need of a thorough lint-brush for his own black suit. They made him think better of sliding his briefcase out of sight, not trusting them enough to leave it alone, and pushed it onto the table where he could keep an eye on it while he pulled out his own seat, only to flinch in surprise at the green mothcat butting her head into his leg. So much for sitting there. "Yes, hello," he murmured to the Countess, allowing her a ginger scratch behind an ear to sate her physical affections before leaving her to her claim. He rounded the table to nudge the seat next to Sims out of the way and lean against the table there instead, ankles crossed and arms folded across his chest as he finally considered his guest and the feather of grey swirled into his dark hair. Tony's eyes narrowed curiously for a moment before he was asking, "What, no foreplay?"

[beholding_archivist]

A slow tilt of his head away from Stark to allow himself just the right angle to cast a fractually raised brow and a glance up at him is all the physical reaction the other man receives. The verbal one comes only after Jon has shifted his eyes away again dismissively. “I believe we went over that before.”

He doesn’t linger there, but takes a moment to run his fingers through the fur of the feline in his lap before continuing. “The last expedition the Institute funded went well. Lost a few men, still acquired a few intriguing items. We are still working out what containment measures have to be taken for some of them. The rest is easy enough. There was a book, however, that will require... Special care.”

B

[itsamysterio]

Quentin very narrowly rescued his laptop from being caught up in the disaster, though the same couldn't be said for his drink, and he winced, looking around at the resulting chaos, to that crack climbing up the glass.

He spotted Stark then, features immediately shifting to a hopeful smile, and then a more pointed 'can you believe this??' sort of a look.

"Mr. Stark, Doctor Shapiro," he greeted, holding his laptop close to his chest, and offering a tentative show of his palm, "That's one way to clear a room, huh?"

[in_extremis]

"It was not my intention," Dr. Shapiro replied soberly, though his eyes flashed with sly triumph over at the disabled bot that had pursued him. Tony took a deep breath like he had something he could possibly say to that, but released it with a shrug, not at all the convincing lecturer for non-disruptive workplace behaviour, and had a sarcastic hand to raise back at Beck's goofy display anyway.

"Yeah, we're trying it out, last call system. Effective, but does extend the clean up process," he said with his own consideration of the cracked window. That was going to be irritating to replace, and the plant guys below were not going to be happy with the disruption. "We're open to ideas," he welcomed dryly.

[itsamysterio]

It was entirely the wrong thing to say, clearly, as Quentin looked immediately so very eager. He didn't really seem to absorb the rest of the words, only the welcoming of ideas.

"Well, actually- I've been trying to get a chance to talk with you about my latest project- And- uh, I've so many others- I know you'll find it really interesting if we could just get a chance to hash things out finally-"

A

[no_applause]

Padme looks down at her watch as Tony finally enters. She doesn't bother to stand, instead just looking up and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Only twenty minutes late? That's practically on time for you." She smiles, though it doesn't entirely reach her eyes. She's blocked out much of the morning for him, anticipating his tardiness.

[in_extremis]

That was a look that Tony was very familiar with, between the watch and the skeptical smile, and not just from Padme, though he did say, "Always a pleasure, sweetheart," with a particular affection for her brand of disappointment as he spread his free hand in welcome for the assessment. He slid his briefcase deliberately out of sight under the table as he took a seat at her side, turned toward her to lean casually on the table with his chin in his hand and eyebrows raised expectantly. "If you're just here to abuse me, I have to warn you, I'm feeling sensitive and I've got another round of this lined up in 45 minutes, so maybe we should reschedule," he offered, before he had to escalate to more elaborate distractions from whatever dressing down he had earned this week.

[no_applause]

She shook her head, choosing not to correct the pet name this time. His distraction tactics didn't work on her, though they were a valiant effort. She slid a newspaper towards him, the headline boasting Tony's latest charity stunt. "Would you care to explain this to me?"

B | OTA | in which we violate the comics code on language.

[kyley_b]

The Broflovskis were a big-hearted couple. Years ago, they had adopted not one but two children. One was an alien. The other, Canadian. The less strange of the two had managed to put himself through school and secure himself a place as an assistant in the legal department of the esteemed Stark Industries.

The Canadian was a research scientist in Vancouver. West Coast, Best Coast.

There was a lot that came up in the Stark Industries legal department. Tony Stark was brilliant, Tony Stark was handsome, Tony Stark was rich and famous. Tony Stark also didn't really give much thought to things like property laws or reckless endangerment suits, and nevermind all the people who were constantly trying to claim that Stark Industries had ripped them off or that Tony had gotten someone pregnant. Defamation and libel cases were so frequent that it wasn't a question of if there were any but rather how many they needed to file on Stark's behalf that day.

This was all to say that while working for Stark Industries was prestigious and rewarding, it was also highly stressful. Which might be why when the great cat chase shattered the usual calm of the tearoom, one Kyle Broflovski did not react with merely mild annoyance.

"Oh, you dumb fucking thing!" he screeched. Yes, screeched - even on the best of days, Kyle's voice could kindly be described as a little shrill. This was not the best of days; the files he'd been going over on his coffee break were now completely soaked in matcha. So was his lap. "Who let that stupid animal in here, anyway?!" he asked as he frantically mopped at his papers. "This is an office, not a goddamn SPCAaaaaaaaaay..."

That sure was his boss right there. Probably hearing him insult his cat.

Way to go, Kyle.

"Maybe he didn't hear me," he whispered. Prayed, really.

B

[doubled_speed]

Tommy had, of course, seen it coming. The cat, the spill, the everything. But this was work, and this was his boyfriend, and those two things didn't get to meet with, well, who Tommy really was. Tommy's life and Speed's life tried REALLY hard not to overlap, except for when he talked a blue storm of positivity about his boyfriend to Kite.

But anyway, no casual displays of impossible speed at work. Instead he too flinched back at the spill and sighed.

"Yeah," Tommy said, grabbing the napkins from his lunch to blot at the tea. "Sorry, but you might have. I mean, it happens a lot down in R&D. Lots of chances to shock or burn yourself and all of that. I'll be okay, though. If he's too bad about it, maybe I can ask my boss to intervene on your behalf?"

[kyley_b]

Tommy was one of Stark Industries brightest stars, as well as one of its youngest. There was a lot of water cooler speculation on why he was wasting his time on one of the nameless pencil pushers in Legal.

Kyle just groaned and put his head in his hands. People usually didn't remember his name, but they sure remembered his hair, and he knew that if Mr. Stark decided to fire someone for insulting his cat all he'd have to do was give a physical description.

"No, no," he insisted. The blotting was appreciated. "That would just be pathetic. Ah, shit. Shit, shit, shit." Papers as rescued as they were going to get, he turned his gaze to Tommy. "Promise to love me when I'm unemployed and depressed."

A - Dammit Tony

[plate_builder]

"Truly, Mister Stark, I do not think you put much value in my time."

There weren't many people in the Board Room. Frankly, Reeve didn't know why he was even meeting the executive in this room as opposed to another office, or even with a lower level administrator. Why he needed to meet with Stark himself was a question he could raise, and didn't see fit to in the moment.

The older man tapped his finger on the suitcase he had left on the table, ignoring the additional tubes of designs beside them. He'd been hired by SI for a project, of course. It had been a while that Reeve had been trying to dodge a contract with the tech giant. His architecture was all about beauty and feeling and being powered by clean industries and so many other things. It was everything that a tech giant no doubt could not be. But even he could not dodge the reach of SI for long.

He just wished that their latest check up meeting hadn't been today of all days. Tony hadn't been the only one out late. Reeve had been too, he and his cat-bots dealing with a string of jewelry store robberies, and he'd even run into another hero last night, which he had not liked. Meowchanist (and he hated that damn name) had been party to an unwilling team-up the night before, and it had left him tired. Which was annoying.

With other companies and projects, he could get away with being a little tired in the mornings, could sell the 'well I'm not on call at ALL hours'. But with Stark Industries, even Reeve had to fake being awake after a very long night.

[in_extremis]

This was an easy start, at least, and Tony's tense shoulders dropped a fraction as he realized it was the architect at the table and not a shareholder or, god forbid, one of the accountants. He waved a hand as though to dismiss the concern and asked, "Why would you say that?," even as he bypassed the meeting table entirely to set his briefcase down by the bar at the other side of the room and pour himself that drink. Reeve hadn't said no, after all. "I've seen the contract. I'd say the value is pretty favourable. If your rates go up anymore, it'll be just me, Djarin and the King of Atlantis you're splitting your time between."

Carrying the pair of glasses back to the table and with a deviously charming smile Reeve's way, Tony quickly took in the array that the architect had brought with him and the pale stress pinching his face, eyebrow ticking up slightly at the image presented of the procrastinating student who had just remembered his project the night before. He still placed Reeve's glass among his materials and raised his own in toast before swallowing most of it in a mouthful then giving an accusatory point with the same drinking hand. "If you're trying to spend that kind of time with me, you could start calling me Tony like I asked."

[plate_builder]

The drink was regarded, very pointedly. It was too early for such a thing. Then it was ignored.

"Tony," he said, keeping the testiness out of his voice, "I am quite happy to work with Namor whenever he asks. Designing things that serve him and his people without adding to humanity's propensity for overdevelopment and disregarding nature has always been a pleasure of mine. He receives very different rates than you do."

His fingers drummed on the table for a long moment before he reached for tube and popped it open to pull out the physical blueprints he was proposing.

"I don't normally allow organizations on your level to hire me."

D - Angry Lady In Reception (OTA anyone at Stark Industries or Reasonably Here)

[kree_soldieress]

It wasn't often a very large, very blue woman walked into the Stark Industries Reception area. It would be hard not to watch her, with shiver-green armor she wore, worked with flower and vine motifs that sometimes sprouted into actual flowers. More flowers tangled in the braid of her hair, filling the air with light perfume.

The heroine known as Flower Power had arrived at Stark industries. As she moved through the space the gardens in the area, so carefully cultivated, grew quickly to greater life. No longer was it carefully managed. New blossoms put themselves forth into buds and then full flowers. Grasses grew taller, and how lotuses started to grow in the fountain was a mystery but it was happening. That plant aura of hers was working full force, and cameras snapped as people jumped to get pictures while Lauri-Ell strode to the front desk.

"I must speak to Tony Stark. Now."

C

[deal_me_in]

Was this the place Tony Stark actually worked? Cayde had to admit, it was pretty impressive. Had his name on the building and everything. ...of course it could be any number of Starks but the Exo was willing to bet it had to be his Stark. It was a fine line away from gaudy, toeing it, really, while remaining tasteful. Surely a Stark signature.

Also it hadn't hurt to hit up the internet just to double-check on names. How embarrassing would it be to walk in yelling for one guy and find out you're in the wrong tower?

There seemed to be some kind of deal going on out and about the place, and that made it harder for Cayde not to be distracted as he wandered about the display setups. He was even holding a churro, undoubtedly purchased from some street vendor he'd come across on the way over, working at it slowly and making a mental note on trying to figure out how they got the ridges on these things. Even with people deeply focused on their projects to make sure everything was working perfectly for when they'd have to present it, it was difficult for someone with an obviously metal face and glowing eyes to go amiss, even when he was dressed so casually. There were more than a few stares as he partook of his churro. Was he cosplaying? How was that light going off in his mouth? Did Iron Man get a brother?

He tried waving some of them off, looking around for a better place he could conduct a sweep without being stuck in the middle of people. He thought nothing much of the person who'd slipped past the stage as his glowing optics alighted upon the thing in dangerous consideration. No, he was trying to be subtle here.

The very thought made him laugh.

[in_extremis]

A lady doing her best to sneak backstage might have been easy to miss, but whatever that was laughing with a churro was not. In the middle of the anxious scientist explaining her team's hyper specific area of study, Tony interrupted her with a very articulate, "Uh..." making her go, "...uh...?" back until he slowly looked over her shoulder to try to see what he was looking at.

"Did one of the kids make that?" she asked, knowing very well that should would have noticed a bipedal, eating robot among the displays by now, and also that no one would have put a hoodie on it.

Tony slid off of the edge of the stage, straightening his jacket daintily before offering enveloping the scientist's hand in both of his to excuse himself, "I doubt it." She still followed curiously as he strolled incredibly casually toward the anomaly, hands tucked in his pockets and slowly tipping his chin down to examine the lights over the frame of his sunglasses, until he had made it quite close to what he had to guess was some kind of synthezoid and did not hide his curious lean over and tilt of his head like he was trying to look up the metal man's nose. Behind him, the space scientist snapped a picture.

"Enjoying yourself?" Tony purred as though this approach hadn't been incredibly conspicuous.

[deal_me_in]

That made his job a whole lot easier, although he was a little disappointed not to actually go through with hopping up on stage to shout embarrassing things to get Tony to show. Of course, when the man had such gall as to unabashedly stare at him like nobody's business, then maybe that wouldn't have worked out as Cayde might have planned it to.

So instead, he played it off as though this had been his plan the entire time. Nailed it.

"Oh hey! Just the man I was looking for. Eh, I guess it's all right." He snapped his fingers. "Know what would make it better? Food booths. And confetti cannons. Anyway, you done here?"

A - touch-up variant

[thesepreciousthings]

His usual makeup artist was noticeably absent, and that should have been red-flag enough, but the woman who slid in beside him in the elevator with concealer and sponge in hand was a walking, talking one.

"We need to talk about what you did last night," Director Starling said, already up in his personal space, covering, doing what she did best: cleaning up his messes and bringing him to heel.

"I've got people asking questions and I need answers."

[in_extremis]

The last person Tony thought to check for was the Director, making him briefly close his eyes in frustration with himself for not anticipating this intrusion when it seemed so inevitable. His nose wrinkled in irritation at her welcoming herself to his face, and only slitted his eyes open to watch her narrowly while she made herself his business like if he stayed still enough she would mistake him for dead. He was going to need another coffee to charm his way out of this encounter.

"That sounds like the kind of thing you're good at, Redline," he murmured, counting down the excruciating seconds it took for the doors to open and he could dart out of the close confinement of the elevator. He knew better than to think this would be an easy escape, but he wouldn't be stuck so anxiously close to Clarice and her clean, warm scent in his office. "Did you try 'stop looking at me like that and get out of my office'? I did always like that one."

[thesepreciousthings]

"You know, I didn't," she said, reaching out and pressing the STOP button with her free hand, not missing a beat between filling in the shadows on his face. He was looking a little thinner since the last time she'd seen him, and she wondered which mixture of stress, lack of sleep, self-flagellation, adrenaline junkie problems, heart issues, and alcohol was responsible this time. Thankfully, she'd been very well trained to keep concern from showing on her face.

"You might be surprised to know it doesn't actually work on my Board of Directors. So come on. The sooner you level with me, the sooner this elevator gets on the level."

D. "The new girl"

[cardsyouredealt]

"Yeah, I get that. But I need ta see Mr. Stark about these plans, cause they're wrong."

The receptionist was clearly not shocked to hear someone insinuate that there was a mistake of some kind, but that it might be directed toward the team of engineers who designed large scale machines for Stark Industries by an intern? The immaculately manicured woman smiled with the patience only a well schooled and well paid employee can. She offered apologies again and gestured to the modern and stylish seats of the lobby were the woman with choppy blond hair could seat herself while the receptionist tried to reach someone to speak with her.

Amanda huffed and shrugged, what more could she do but wait. Phone calls hadn't gotten her anywhere, at least coming up her had gotten her literal foot in the door. She dropped into seat one leg hitched up over the edge of the chair a bit more stiffly than the other.

She pulled out her tablet and went over the specs again, it just wasn't right. It was close but changes had been uploaded last week and they didn't sit right with her. The power flows were all off, the relays wouldn't have the ability to shunt and redirect fast enough if need be and that could make a Hellicarrier a flying bomb. If Stark signed off on the changes and he felt like they were ok maybe that was fine, but in her gut she just knew it wasn't. And she knew she couldn't sit by and not say something just because it was the easier thing to do.

Hell, since when had she ever made her life easy?

[in_extremis]

It was about to get harder.

On the bright side, there was no way traipsing up to the building and sitting stubbornly in the lobby was going to get anyone Tony's attention. Largely, they were lucky if he was even in the building, but that rare instance didn't get the call from reception put through to his office. Most likely, this would have ended with Amanda being kicked out so the doors could be locked for the night, if she was committed enough to this tactic. Fortunately, she was very quickly going to meet Tony anyway.

Unfortunately, he was backhanding the tablet out of her grip first, before falling fully into her lap, only to be jerked away again in another flailing panic of knocking limbs and heads together that he did try to yelp an apology for. He was going straight up again, as though she was the lucky terminus of his bungee cord and he was bouncing back toward the balcony that he had been pitched over, several stories up in the massive, open lobby liberally washed with sunshine through shimmering windows. He didn't drop again, but started to swing, dangling from the thick, white cast that was wound around his ankle that he quickly tried to claw his way out of before realizing he was already a little too high for that to end well. From above, a cackle rang out over the serene bubbling of the fountains throughout the space, quieting the murmur of voices as the people milling around turned their faces up in confusion.

[cardsyouredealt]

"GAHHH!"

It was neither a flattering nor particularly feminine sound, but the genuine shock it conveyed was right on the money. Amanda would have jumped except for the having her boss in her lap thing and then the having her boss suddenly out of her lap thing. And then there was the having her boss cracking his head against hers and her teeth clacked together thing.

Her eyes went fuzzy for a second and her ears were ringing but she heard some sort of apology or something and then he was off again like some weird version of Peter Pan into BDSM. She was going to blame any and all of these weird thoughts on the head trauma and try to get on with her life.

When she saw her boss struggling she pushed up from her chair, wobbled just a bit before finding her feet and moved quickly over toward him. "You ok Mr. Stark?"

She was looking for a way to support his weight so he wasn't just dangling there or in danger of falling and hitting his head worse. She knew building security would be on it in a hot minute so she just had to hold the line until the real professionals got there.

"Take it easy, I got ya." She hooked a strong arm around his shoulders and hefted him upwards, using her own back to brace him, she had to mind where the leg was caught, she didn't want that to break anything or cause damage, or uh.. more damage maybe.