JUST A LITTLE BROKEN|| t. s.

Chapter 7: Lucilla Condoneiree

Elizabeth's Point of View

I woke up once I heard the alarm of my clock. I looked around to see myself in my room, on my bed and tucked in the covers. ‘I don't remember falling asleep in my room... I slept in the library.’

"JARVIS, did my dad carry me here?" I ask out of caution and because I was weirdly freaked out.

"I’m afraid not Miss Stark, Miss Lucilla Condoneiree carried you to your room," JARVIS informed me. My face twists in confusion about the name. Okay I do not know who that is.

"Who’s Lucilla?" As soon as that question left my mouth, the door opened and I stood up on my bed and got into a fighting stance, but I wobbled and tumbled to the floor in a very ungraceful manner. My cheeks heat up in embarrassment and I stand as quick as I could. The brown haired woman held her hands up as if to say she's not a threat, while obviously holding in her laughter. Groaning, I close my eyes.

I’m such a clumsy walnut.

"I'm Lucilla, your private bodyguard and assistant, Mr. Stark hired me, and here's my badge," she said showing me a badge that was very much like Happy's. My hands dropped to my sides and I sighed in relief.

So this is what my dad was talking about a few weeks ago. Dad insisted that I have a private bodyguard and I complied but made sure that he set up some sort of criteria in choosing. Of course I wanted my bodyguard to be smart, resourceful, combat ready, neat, and organized. And she fit the description perfectly. She looked organized because of her outfit. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she wore clothes all in black: black shirt, black leather pants, combat boots, and black gloves. She had a holster by her waist that had three guns; two on each side of her hips, and one on the left side of her back. As for combat ready, the way she handled herself and her posture told me that she is an experienced fighter. Her posture told me that she is also a flexible woman. As for smart, she looked like it. I nod my head in approval of dad's choice. Dad’s the best.

"Okay Lucilla, welcome to the job, my name is Elizabeth Stark but call me Elise,” I greet in a cheerful manner. “Um, hey, can I know what your IQ is?" Giving her a weird and awkward smile, she gives me a nice smile in return. Ugh, first clumsy walnut, then an awkward walnut? I’m weird. I’m a weird walnut.

"Oh, it's 179," she says in an almost embarrassed tone. I squealed in delight. Jumping, I hug her tightly which took her aback. Her IQ is lower than mine, not to brag, but she'll do just fine. And she smelled so nice! And her shirt is so soft! I always had an issue of being annoyingly childish. Well that, and having issues of people who smelled nice and have soft clothes. Blame dad on that issue. Back when I was young, dad always wore his sweatshirts and it was always so soft and smelled good! I never got to sleep without having to drag dad to my room with the reason that I always used was that he tuck me in. But in truth, I just wanted to cuddle dad and sleep with him next to me and smell his shirt that reeked of oil and metal but hints of wintergreen and floral fragrance. It would smell weird to others but to me, it smelled like home.

"You're perfect!" I exclaim while getting back to her and feeling like a kid who got her present on Christmas. I pulled back and jumped up and down out of excitement.

"Nobody's perfect, but thanks for the compliment," she chuckles at my childish attitude. Hey, I’m proud of it. I got those from my dad… or maybe from my bio-mom. I don’t know, I never met her. Okay I sound very bitter. I’m very sorry bio-mom who I know not.  She looked at her black watch that I didn't notice and looked at me.