Answering To Eternity [DISCONT.]

05 | whiskey, please

"Tony," Steve nodded in greeting, Natasha and Clint standing by his side - the two equally dressed up for the occasion, though only Natasha looked happy to be there. Clint seemed more indifferent, watching the staff stumbling about boredly. 

"Steve, glad you could make it," Tony nodded back, "I was just introducing myself to Mr. Wayne, here." He paused to choose his words carefully, "Mr. Wayne, these are some of my associates. This is Captain Rogers, Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff." 

Bruce turned his attention to the new people Tony was introducing him too. "It's a pleasure to meet you all." 

"You too, Mr. Wayne." Natasha was the only one that replied. Her gaze was cold - her eyes always looked like they'd seen too much, and she never stopped observing him carefully, even for a second. The infamous Black Widow was a sight to behold on TV - but in real-life, she was even more intimidating. She may be petite, barely brushing up against Bruce's shoulder, but there was a rigidness to the way she held herself that he had seen before in the most brutal and accomplished of assassins. It was a stance that screamed confidence and served caution others around them.

Whilst they spoke amongst themselves, light pieces of mundane conversation that avoided anything too deep, more guests started to arrive, filling the lobby with some of America's most elite people. These were the richest in the world - the heirs of multi-billion dollar companies, the men and women who dominated the stock-market. There was an air of ruthlessness about everybody in the room - these were people who crushed others underfoot to secure their success, people who prioritised business above empathy. 

Tony tried to greet all of them, all the while attempting to keep an eye on Bruce, who was doing his best to avoid the steely-eyed Mrs. Unkeet, who was stabbing at an entree rather intensely whilst glaring at him. 

"Pep, keep an eye on Unkeet's wife. She doesn't look too happy with Wayne." Tony whispered into his girlfriend's ear, before pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar, where Bruce was sitting. 

"Mr. Wayne," Tony started the conversation again, both of them now seated at the bar. 

"Please, it's just Bruce," He smiled congenially. Maybe Stark wasn't so bad after all - every single tabloid liked to demonise these parties, calling them 'hell on earth' or other such fun nicknames. Truly, the atmosphere thus far seemed calm. The worst thing about it was the looks being sent his way by Mrs. Unkeet, but those were hardly unbearable in the face of everything he had done before. 

Tony smiled back, a grin tugging his lips upwards, "Can he get you a drink?" He gestured to the man working the bar for the night, who was doing his best not to look overtly nervous at the prospect of serving two billionaires. 

Bruce shrugged, "Alright," He waved for the bartender to come over, "I'll have a whiskey." 

Tony nodded, "Good choice, I'll have the same."