I'm lying to you // Natasha Romanoff x OC Odindottir

Chapter 20 - Ned is going to Freak Out!

Cyrus' pov

The plane touches down swiftly in New York, the fingertips of dazzling golden sunset gracing every inch of the jagged skyline. Cap and glasses secured on my head, I keep my eyes firmly down as I shuffle through customs and into the open street.

I hail another taxi, asking for just a few blocks south of the Avenger's Tower. The trip is - per usual - slow and loud, but the sheer height of the building comes into perspective in little time. Paying the fare, I grab my suitcase and dump it in a nearby alley (making sure it is concealed by a haze of magic). Placing a little note on the label, just in case my powers fail, I scrawl out:

I hope you can be a moral citizen and leave this here. If not, I hope that you - politely - get drenched by a bus.

~ H. O-D.

Fast paced, I walk to the Avenger's Tower entrance in no more than 5 minutes. The modern glass doors sweep open to invite me into the large foyer, which bustles with business people and other workers. The reception desk spans across the room in front of a feature fountain which nearly reaches the top of the near-triple height ceiling.

"How may I help you today, Madam?" The kind-eyed lady peers over her glasses as soon as I reach the desk.

"I'd like to see... Tony Stark," I request, pausing momentarily to mentally make a final decision.

"You sure?" She asks teasingly, playing on my hesitation. I nod, offering her a humouring smile. She types away, looking up after a moment, "The next available meeting is 5:34 in... two months time. Will that be ok?"

I laugh, but it falls flat nearly immediately when I see her confused expression, "Two months? Seriously?"

"I'm sure that you can appreciate that Mr Stark is a very busy man-"

"I'll see him today."

"Sorry, madam, but that can't be arranged," she offers me a tight smile, restraining any other display of emotion.

"It will be arranged, otherwise I'll level this place," I seethe, growing ever angrier at mortal incompetence and my own stupidity for returning, "So I would wholeheartedly advise that you make me a slot in his very busy schedule."

"Security to desk 3," she murmurs into her radio, "security to desk 3, thank you."

"Do you not know who I am?!" I exclaim, exasperated, "I've come all the way from Paris!"

"I sympathise with you, madam, but there's nothing I can do-"

"I just want to see Natasha!" I slam my hand on the frosted glass desk top, feeling my voice waver, "Just- just let me see Natasha..."

Two burly security officers take me by the arms, forcing me towards the doors. They grumble out threatening phrases about 'not coming back', but once I'm out, I leave without needing any persuading.

~~~~~~

Dusk falls soon into a warm evening, the twinkling of twilight's luminous haze still playing fondly on the horizon. I have occupied the same bench in Central Park for a few hours now - but as the night crowd begins to emerge - I think better for my safety and leave.