7/24/12 - Janet, Stark
Jul. 24th, 2012 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aa_waspDictated memo...
...should note that -- What the hell is this word, Hank? R.h.a.b? d?o. viruses have large enveloped virions with bullet-shaped or bacilliform morphology.--Next time, you transcribe your own damn notes. They are composed of an infectious nucleocapsid enveloped by a host-derived lipid membrane containing glyco--Hey! Watch it! (muffled male voice) Oh shut up--"
=NYC= Labs - Shield HQ - Midtown
Perhaps the shiniest area of headquarters, the labs here at Shield HQ are top of the line. There are a multitude of them for different scientific areas, both hard and soft, and are often staffed by various SHIELD scientists doing their country proud.
One of those various SHIELD scientists doing their country proud is dressed in three inch heels and a blouse that dips three inches the other direction. And yet, she can still barely reach the microscope viewer that she's bending over. At her elbow, a burner heats a liquid that bubbles and pops, splashing her bare arm and making her squeak and stumble back. "Hey! Watch it!" she orders the burner as it continues to bubble away obliviously.
"Bad lab safety," Stark chides. His arms may be fully covered and his shoes flat, toes covered, but he doesn't deserve a whole lot of credit: he is wearing a suit, comfortable and finely tailored. It is just what he wears. The sunglasses on his face have no place in a lab, unless we are pretending they are lab safety goggles. Which they aren't. He turns up like a bad penny: unexpected and not always welcome. He reaches up to nudge his glasses down his nose and peer at Jan over the top of them. "You know, green looks good on you, but I'd watch that you don't put on weight and turn into a rage monster."
"Oh shut up," Janet retorts with the sort of bored familiarity indicating a fairly well-practiced phrase. She peers at her arm, inspecting for damage, then leans back over the boiling mixture and inserts a spoon (or at least the lab equivalent of a spoon) into it and stirs slowly before turning her head to peer over at the bad penny. "Do you even have clearance to be here?" She pulls the spoon back out and lifts it to her lips, letting a small smile flicker across her lips while she watches him from the corner of her eye.
Stark's head recoils when Janet sticks a spoon in and then licks it -- and then he is drawn forward, twice as quick and four times as curious as he was before. "Okay. What is it?" He rolls his eyes at her question of clearance with a pointed glance toward guarded doors. If he didn't have clearance, he'd be flat on his stomach with his arm wrenched up behind his back crying for Pepper -- if he weren't unconscious or tazed or what have you.
Unless he seduced the guards, her return brow lift says as she taps the spoon against her lips and smiles at him. "My lunch," she says with a snort, turning away to put the spoon back down and turn off the burner, then adding thoughtfully as she peers inside the container. "I think there's broccoli in it. Or spinach. Care for some?"
"You're definitely going to turn green." Stark's eyelashes lower over his eyes in a look of lazy contemplation. The curiosity switches off once his query has been answered. "And probably develop some really distorted musculature." Nudging his sunglasses back into place with a poke of his finger, he adds, "I think I'll pass. I'd rather eat engine oil than whatever you monkeys are playing with." He probably does eat engine oil.
"You're one to talk," Janet retorted, letting her eyes drift down to his chest with some measure of the same lazy contemplation. "What are you doing here if not to see what we're playing with?"
Stark's smile punctuates in a tense line. He does not appreciate her ogling of his nice suit. "Pym," he says. The single syllable pops past his lips, all round and snappy. It ends in half a grimace. "Need to talk to him."
"Get in line," Janet snorts with a roll of her eyes as she turns away and lifts her hands in an irritated flail. "He's holed himself up in one of his labs and turned off the phone. At least, he better have turned off the phone, because if he's just been ignoring /my/ calls..." She stops and looks back at Stark, thin face turned suddenly slyly intrigued. "Why Hank?"
"You don't have clearance for that." It is quite possible that Stark is just being obnoxious, but with reflective lenses fixed over his eyes and a firm line to his jaw -- well. She can't tell. "Didn't try overriding his phone." He looks thoughtful. "Next time I'll try that."
Janet purses her lips and tilts her head. "Show me how?" she asks, eyes brightening in a the sort of wide-eyed sparkle she usually managed to get her way with.
Stark rolls willpower against sparkle and wins out with aid from common sense: "Nuh-uh," he says with a firm shake of his head. "Some powers must be held by those who will treat them responsibly and not abuse them in the name of fun."
Janet's sparkle dims as she folds her arms in front of her and crinkles her face into a pout. "Spoil sport," she grouses. "When did you turn into such a boy scout?" She turns easily on her heels and flounces away from him with a little wiggle of her fingers. "You've been hanging around with the Captain too much, Stark."
Scrunching his nose, Stark says an emphatic, "Ugh." That is a no, btw. B-T-W. "I compliment you on your blatant manipulation. Your attempts to goad me into wild shenanigans are much better this time. Some things speak to self-preservation more than duty or honor." In short: "I know better, Jan."
"Mhm," Janet murmurs as she begins to sort through whatever it was she actually had been working on when he showed up. "Not too much, or you wouldn't antagonize me. Remember what happened last time you tried it?"
"No." Stark answers with naked honesty. "I only remember half that night." His smile makes the admission charming. Right? RIGHT? "Must not have been too awful, anyway. Or maybe it was great." He affects a look of sudden contemplation and fixes her with a look. "We didn't, you know--." Vaccuum?
Janet turns her head to look at him, one elegantly shaped eyebrow sliding up her forehead. "You said it was the highlight of the evening," she purred, a smirk dancing at the corners of her lips.
"I /must/ have been drunk." Stark sweeps her a courteous little bow: hand to heart, and then out with a dip of his head. He departs with a smile, and before she can get too irate, he calls back, "Highlight of the week, at least." Then he goes to find Pym. That probably won't be the highlight of anything.
Tony thinks every one does for him.
...should note that -- What the hell is this word, Hank? R.h.a.b? d?o. viruses have large enveloped virions with bullet-shaped or bacilliform morphology.--Next time, you transcribe your own damn notes. They are composed of an infectious nucleocapsid enveloped by a host-derived lipid membrane containing glyco--Hey! Watch it! (muffled male voice) Oh shut up--"
=NYC= Labs - Shield HQ - Midtown
Perhaps the shiniest area of headquarters, the labs here at Shield HQ are top of the line. There are a multitude of them for different scientific areas, both hard and soft, and are often staffed by various SHIELD scientists doing their country proud.
One of those various SHIELD scientists doing their country proud is dressed in three inch heels and a blouse that dips three inches the other direction. And yet, she can still barely reach the microscope viewer that she's bending over. At her elbow, a burner heats a liquid that bubbles and pops, splashing her bare arm and making her squeak and stumble back. "Hey! Watch it!" she orders the burner as it continues to bubble away obliviously.
"Bad lab safety," Stark chides. His arms may be fully covered and his shoes flat, toes covered, but he doesn't deserve a whole lot of credit: he is wearing a suit, comfortable and finely tailored. It is just what he wears. The sunglasses on his face have no place in a lab, unless we are pretending they are lab safety goggles. Which they aren't. He turns up like a bad penny: unexpected and not always welcome. He reaches up to nudge his glasses down his nose and peer at Jan over the top of them. "You know, green looks good on you, but I'd watch that you don't put on weight and turn into a rage monster."
"Oh shut up," Janet retorts with the sort of bored familiarity indicating a fairly well-practiced phrase. She peers at her arm, inspecting for damage, then leans back over the boiling mixture and inserts a spoon (or at least the lab equivalent of a spoon) into it and stirs slowly before turning her head to peer over at the bad penny. "Do you even have clearance to be here?" She pulls the spoon back out and lifts it to her lips, letting a small smile flicker across her lips while she watches him from the corner of her eye.
Stark's head recoils when Janet sticks a spoon in and then licks it -- and then he is drawn forward, twice as quick and four times as curious as he was before. "Okay. What is it?" He rolls his eyes at her question of clearance with a pointed glance toward guarded doors. If he didn't have clearance, he'd be flat on his stomach with his arm wrenched up behind his back crying for Pepper -- if he weren't unconscious or tazed or what have you.
Unless he seduced the guards, her return brow lift says as she taps the spoon against her lips and smiles at him. "My lunch," she says with a snort, turning away to put the spoon back down and turn off the burner, then adding thoughtfully as she peers inside the container. "I think there's broccoli in it. Or spinach. Care for some?"
"You're definitely going to turn green." Stark's eyelashes lower over his eyes in a look of lazy contemplation. The curiosity switches off once his query has been answered. "And probably develop some really distorted musculature." Nudging his sunglasses back into place with a poke of his finger, he adds, "I think I'll pass. I'd rather eat engine oil than whatever you monkeys are playing with." He probably does eat engine oil.
"You're one to talk," Janet retorted, letting her eyes drift down to his chest with some measure of the same lazy contemplation. "What are you doing here if not to see what we're playing with?"
Stark's smile punctuates in a tense line. He does not appreciate her ogling of his nice suit. "Pym," he says. The single syllable pops past his lips, all round and snappy. It ends in half a grimace. "Need to talk to him."
"Get in line," Janet snorts with a roll of her eyes as she turns away and lifts her hands in an irritated flail. "He's holed himself up in one of his labs and turned off the phone. At least, he better have turned off the phone, because if he's just been ignoring /my/ calls..." She stops and looks back at Stark, thin face turned suddenly slyly intrigued. "Why Hank?"
"You don't have clearance for that." It is quite possible that Stark is just being obnoxious, but with reflective lenses fixed over his eyes and a firm line to his jaw -- well. She can't tell. "Didn't try overriding his phone." He looks thoughtful. "Next time I'll try that."
Janet purses her lips and tilts her head. "Show me how?" she asks, eyes brightening in a the sort of wide-eyed sparkle she usually managed to get her way with.
Stark rolls willpower against sparkle and wins out with aid from common sense: "Nuh-uh," he says with a firm shake of his head. "Some powers must be held by those who will treat them responsibly and not abuse them in the name of fun."
Janet's sparkle dims as she folds her arms in front of her and crinkles her face into a pout. "Spoil sport," she grouses. "When did you turn into such a boy scout?" She turns easily on her heels and flounces away from him with a little wiggle of her fingers. "You've been hanging around with the Captain too much, Stark."
Scrunching his nose, Stark says an emphatic, "Ugh." That is a no, btw. B-T-W. "I compliment you on your blatant manipulation. Your attempts to goad me into wild shenanigans are much better this time. Some things speak to self-preservation more than duty or honor." In short: "I know better, Jan."
"Mhm," Janet murmurs as she begins to sort through whatever it was she actually had been working on when he showed up. "Not too much, or you wouldn't antagonize me. Remember what happened last time you tried it?"
"No." Stark answers with naked honesty. "I only remember half that night." His smile makes the admission charming. Right? RIGHT? "Must not have been too awful, anyway. Or maybe it was great." He affects a look of sudden contemplation and fixes her with a look. "We didn't, you know--." Vaccuum?
Janet turns her head to look at him, one elegantly shaped eyebrow sliding up her forehead. "You said it was the highlight of the evening," she purred, a smirk dancing at the corners of her lips.
"I /must/ have been drunk." Stark sweeps her a courteous little bow: hand to heart, and then out with a dip of his head. He departs with a smile, and before she can get too irate, he calls back, "Highlight of the week, at least." Then he goes to find Pym. That probably won't be the highlight of anything.
Tony thinks every one does for him.