A new career in a new town
Who: Tony Stark/Iron Man, Steve Rogers/Captain America
What: Lunch and drinks.
Where: Paradise Cove Beach Cafe, Malibu, CA
So that was a 'cell.' A small hand-held phone that also, confusingly, played music, television, and connected to the Internet. Steve had been assured that mobile phones had been around for two or three decades already, and that the possibility of one exploding was very, very small; but he still handled it carefully, with the tips of his fingers, a determined frown on his face. The touch pad disagreed with him, and dialling Stark's number correctly had taken a few tries.
Once he had gotten through, though, he was in familiar territory. At least, he had thought he was. He knew next to nothing about Stark, except that he was monstrously rich, practically unparalleled in intelligence, and cared enough about the world to have donned that metal suit. Stark knew next to nothing about him, and had probably made his invitation in a less than invested way. Steve had expected evasion and the vague promise of some evening well into the next year.
And yet, a mere two days later, there they were: Paradise Cove, no less, champagne between them and a brilliant blue ocean for a view, white dots of sea gulls swooping idly above the waves. Steve tapped his fingers along his glass, and wondered if he should tell Stark now or later just how immune to alcohol he was.
What: Lunch and drinks.
Where: Paradise Cove Beach Cafe, Malibu, CA
So that was a 'cell.' A small hand-held phone that also, confusingly, played music, television, and connected to the Internet. Steve had been assured that mobile phones had been around for two or three decades already, and that the possibility of one exploding was very, very small; but he still handled it carefully, with the tips of his fingers, a determined frown on his face. The touch pad disagreed with him, and dialling Stark's number correctly had taken a few tries.
Once he had gotten through, though, he was in familiar territory. At least, he had thought he was. He knew next to nothing about Stark, except that he was monstrously rich, practically unparalleled in intelligence, and cared enough about the world to have donned that metal suit. Stark knew next to nothing about him, and had probably made his invitation in a less than invested way. Steve had expected evasion and the vague promise of some evening well into the next year.
And yet, a mere two days later, there they were: Paradise Cove, no less, champagne between them and a brilliant blue ocean for a view, white dots of sea gulls swooping idly above the waves. Steve tapped his fingers along his glass, and wondered if he should tell Stark now or later just how immune to alcohol he was.