2012-09-02: Mister Stark Isn't In

Pepper Potts is sitting in her office, working late into the evening as usual, switching off between writing on printed paperwork and rapidly typing on the computer that lives at one end of her desk. The sun has just barely gone down in the windows behind her, the view from her office going as unnoticed as the salad and glass of juice on the other end of her desk. She'll get to her dinner. In another minute.

Clint's wearing a suit. That's how you know this is serious business. Still, he also wears sunglasses despite being away from any major sunlight at the moment. That's how you know he's bad-ass. It's the small signals that matter. He hold a simple looking manilla envelope in one hand. As he goes through levels of admittance and assistance, he is offered access to the personal offices of Tony Stark, especially when he shows off his SHIELD credentials. As he approaches another door, he knocks a few times and waits outside, pondering what his own dinner will look like.

Pepper Potts looks up at the knock and closes the folders on her desk quickly. "Come," she calls out as one hand out of habit taps the keys to activate the screen saver on her computer.

Well that doesn't sound like Tony Stark. Clint pushes into the office and glances across the room. "Um, apologies," he says professionally enough as he closes the distance between the entrance and the mystery woman's desk. "I was looking to speak with Mr. Stark, and I was pointed this way? You know, you're help desk downstairs is not terribly helpful. Might wanna work on that."

Pepper smiles politely as she stands to greet the man entering her office. "Mr. Stark is not in the office currently. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr.... ?" She ignores the comment about the front desk downstairs. For the moment, anyway. Her eyes quickly take stock of the man. Sunglasses indoors. Suspicious. A not-quite high end suit. Not unexpected. Extreme efficiency of movement. There's something familiar about the man. She can't quite place it, though. Not yet.

Clint smacks the tip of his tongue against the top of his mouth slightly, a clear sound of annoyance. "Perfect, probably off boozing it up, right?" He pauses then offers a sheepish grin. "Of course, I'm talking about your boss, so if that comment could be kept between us. In fact, this room isn't bugged is it?" He glances around suspiciously, before back towards the woman. He pauses for a second before extending his empty right hand. "Clint Barton, Special Agent for SHIELD," he says rather bluntly. "And you are?"

Pepper Potts reaches across her desk to shake Barton's hand, the name SHIELD jogging her memory, but not enough. "Even if I were at liberty to divulge Mr. Stark's whereabouts, I don't think I would, just because of that comment right there." She moves to sit back down. "So, let me ask again. Is there anything I can do for you?

Clint blinks a few time behind his glasses, following to make himself comfortable in one of the guest chairs as well. "Well that depends, you've still not told me who you are," he points out to her, with a slight grin tugging at the ends of his lip, placing his mysterious folder in his lap as he crosses his legs, getting comfy.

Pepper just stares at Clint for a moment, tempted to tap the name plaque on the front edge of her desk. That'd be ... snide, though. So instead she says, "Virginia Potts, Mr. Stark's senior executive assistant." And the person that keeps his life in order. But again, saying that aloud would be snide. So she instead offers the man a polite smile.

Conversely, Clint has no issue with being snide. "See, was that so hard?" he says evenly with a good-natured grin. "As far as my business with Mr. Stark, it deals with his operations outside of Stark Industries." He holds up his folder. "A matter of international security. Very heady stuff. Any idea when he might be available, Ms. Virginia Potts."

Pepper's smile disappears instantly. She does NOT take snide from ANYONE except Tony, and even from him she will only tolerate it for a few minutes. "If that is the case, then leave the file with me and I will see to it that he reads it." No compromises. Leave the file with her or leave.

The sudden shift in Ms. Potts' demeanor catches Clint off gaurd, both eyebrows arching high in the air. "Okay," he says slowly, before rising from his chair. "I see this is a bad time, so I'll just try to catch Mr. Stark some other time. Thank you for your hospitality, and I hope to see you again." And with that he turns to leave, with the file.

Pepper Potts calls after the man. "If you'd like to speak with Mr. Stark, Try calling and making an appointment. I'll be happy to schedule one for you." And no, there's not a single hint of smugness in there. Honest.

Clint pauses as he reaches the door, reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulling out a simple card. His name, number, and the SHIELD eagle symbol emblazoned in the upper left hand corner. He crosses back over towards Potts and hands her the card. "Here, now you have my contact information," he says, his tone strictly professional now. "Feel free to contact me once you have a spot on Mr. Stark's schedule for me to have a short debriefing with him. It could be urgent. Not quite sure yet."

Pepper Potts takes the card without glancing at it. "Very well, Mr. Barton. We'll be in touch." She's completely businesslike as well, and that's not changing in this man's presence. And she's going to add a memo to the front desk and security that people wearing sunglasses at odd times of day should be considered suspect and monitored carefully.

Clint nods and offers a short two-finger salute. "Alright then. You have a wonderful rest of your evening Ms. Potts, and I look forward to being in touch with your employer soon." With a final nod, Clint turns on his heel, moving to leave for a second time.

Pepper Potts nods and watches the man leave. She waits until the door closes completely then turns to her computer. "JARVIS, get me everything you can find on an organization called SHIELD, and an individual named Clint Barton."