cruciverbalist | _openpost.exe

"Thank you." she gave the woman a polite smile, nodding her head. In her arms was the usual arrangement of files, anything from documents to be looked over for the Industry to little notes Tony had decided were good to put into her pile of work. She would have left them in the car, but no--they had things she might need in order to schedule things with Mr. Holmes.

She carefully made her way through the mess, a master at avoiding clutter thanks to Tony. She stood several feet behind the genius, turning to Ms. Watson. "I would like to speak to Mr. Holmes alone, if that's okay with you." she explained, putting on a more serious air. After the woman had left, she spoke directly to the man.

"Hello, Mr. Holmes. I see you're very busy, but would you be interested in meeting Tony Stark?"

He pauses in his work to look up to her. Holmes looked the complete opposite of Tony. Tony had image while Sherlock preferred to slip under the radar. He practically looked homeless most of the time. As for Miss Potts, she looked every inch the professional secretary. Her clothes were designer but not absolute top of the line. She preferred function to style hut kept herself classy. Clean nails, perfectly cared for matter of fact. Hair pulled up in a pony. Not too much make-up. She didn't want attention. Authority. Professionalism. Extremely organized and patient.

Would he like to meet Tony Stark. Sherlock rises from his spot and heads unto the kitchen. "Always busy, Miss Potts. No shortage of lunatics in New York. Coffee?"

She didn't even blink at his appearance. She'd seen Tony enough times when he didn't look the part of billionaire-whatever he called himself to know well enough that expecting the man dressed up for the part was quite silly. She stepped back as he got up, then followed him, standing just outside the doorframe. Changing the subject, was he? Perhaps he was just trying to be nice.

"No, thank you. I had a cup this morning." With Tony. "I'm sure you're very, very busy, but I assure you, Mr. Stark is flexible." Or, at least, he could be.

Not changing the subject. Investigating. Besides, he wanted coffee. He hadn't slept much last night (no surprise). She presses on with an understanding. Something almost urgent, it seemed. Not urgent enough that he was needed right now which was unlikely to make it an event that required his deduction skill.

There's a slow smile that slides over his lips as he brings the filled cup to his lips and takes a sip. It's been there awhile. Not super hot anymore. "Playing matchmaker, Miss Potts?|

"I assure you, Mr. Stark has no need for a matchmaker." there's a small laugh, mixed with the tone of being almost-comfortable. "I do know, though, that he would like to speak to someone of your intelligence level." She's not going to say he was bored, of course, that would be un-businesslike. It would also be rude to the person she was talking to. Who wants to be told that a rich, smart man like Tony Stark only wants to talk to him because he's bored? No one, most likely.

"So the papers say." Don't worry, Sherlock prefers to be something of use. He does not cope so well with people who just 'want to talk'. What does that even mean? I just want to talk. Such a completely baffling concept. Want to talk about what? Want to talk about work? Want to talk about philosophy? Ecomony, politics, why the sky is blue? No, just want to talk. You know. About stuff. How was your day?

Drives. Him. Mad.

"Mm," but that smile hasn't left his lips. Of course he is interested. Sherlock had a PhD in Psychology and Criminlogy. Stark had a PhD in Engineering and Physics. Sherlock could have went in to Engineering and Sciences. He had the mind for it but he chose to not. For many reasons; most relating to the heart.

Still, it fascinated him. Which was why he knew how to use ciphers, why he followed so many home security, why he liked lock-picking and system-hacking, and why he had followed Tony Stark's technological empire with something of admiration.

"And it would be unkind of me to decline the offer of a chat with a fellow genius, wouldn't it?"

"I'm sure he would understand." No, no he wouldn't. Not that he knew that she'd even come, of course. She'd simply told hiim she had some errands to run, and since he was quite wrapped up in his newest project, he'd let her go. And now she was here. With another genius. Not quite as irratating, she assumed, but that could just be because of the short time she'd spent with him. She eyes the coffee pot.

"Actually, coffee sounds okay right now."

"I'm sure he thinks he's just fine rotting in the sanctum of his mind." Speaking from experience, perhaps. Coffee it is and he will pull out a cup, pour. Joan made it. He makes god awful coffee. It's like drinking gritty piss, really. One of the many reasons she is not allowed to leave.

Anyway. The cup is placed on the table and he unfolds a hand to motion he toward the chair across from the one his hand had steadied on.

Okay, that was a bit more than irritating. "I doubt that's what's happening here, Mr. Holmes." Her tone changes slightly, is a bit more sharp. She sits, crossing her legs, pursing her lips. "Thank you." She takes a sip of the coffee. Not what she was used to, no, but deccent all the same.

"Perhaps tomorrow at three?"

He leans back against his chair and watches for a second. People don't just want to talk to Sherlock. No one except Joan and Joan just wants to talk to Sherlock because she thinks that him reliving his memories is going to make chemical dependence disappear from the recesses of his mind (which it wont, by the way).

"I've upset you," he seems to almost be questioning it, but. Nevertheless seems to also be inquiring why and more so why she decided to come bother him to meet with Tony stark. It couldn't have been a case. She would have been more urgent in her proposal.

Keep your composure, Pepper--maybe he was more like Tony than she thought. She was here on buisness, and that alone. So why was he so concerned about how she was? He clearly had things to get done as well, so getting to the bottom of things as quick as possible seemed like the best solution. She stays silent for a second, thinking upon how to respond.

Of course he upset her-she was Tony Stark's girlfriend. And no matter how often he complained she tortured him somehow, she wouldn't let him suffer alone in this 'sanatorium' or whatever he assumed she was leaving him in. She may not be as smart as him, but she sure as hell wasn't leaving him alone to rot. That was insulting to her.

"That has nothing to do with the topic at hand, Mr. Holmes."

Business to get her boyfriend a playdate? Seemingly the end goal as far as he could tell which amused him just a little. He rubs a hand under his nose and over his lips before letting it flop down. He didn't send her here at all, did he. Wonder how impressed he'll be with her decision (sarcasm).

"Three it is." But he never did suggest that she was leaving him there, Tony. She was doing the opposite, trying to help, and like Sherlock (he can only assume) Tony will be annoyed but in the end grateful.

She smiles, the smile of someone who's just gotten their way. "Thank you, Mr. Holmes."

She takes out a pen, writing it down on a planner. Hopefully Tony will enjoy the encounter--he needed more friends, really. She writes down something on a scrap piece of paper, handing it to the detective. "Here, a reminder. I wrote my number on it in case you run into another case before then." Standing, she offers a hand out to shake. "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Holmes."

Oh, he knows that smile. He's seen it before and he's worn it before but it's hardly the maker of a challenge being hat he is, most honestly, interested.

When she hands out the paper, he takes it between the tips of two fingers and looks it over. Unconcerned, for the moment, of what it said. More interested in what her writing style said about her. Sliding it in half he rises and grasps her hand. Firm, one shake. A short nod.

"And you,"a calm about him as he even offers to see her to the door.

It's neat and precise, the note. Ever so slightly girly as well, medium sized handwriting. She smiles politely at him, walking quickly to the door with him in tow,a feeling of professionalism about her. She stops at the door to readjust herself before putting a hand on the door.

"Goodbye, and thank you again. Do you need a ride to get there tomorrow, by any chance?"

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