Midnight Racer-Tony Stark's Daughter

fourteen

The instant that man plopped back down from the ceiling vents, Dallas knew she was in for it. His interest had been peaked the second that movie quote slipped her lips, and had now been put her to the test for the past 10 minutes.

"Say Hello to my little friend."

"Easy. Scarface."

"Damn, you're good." Clint sighs in content.

His head drapes over the arm of the chair he's lounging on lazily. His hair is askew and his face is a lighter shade of red as the blood in his body all rushes to his brain. He's a pretty cool man from these few minutes she's spent with him, despite that he definitely doesn't trust her enough to leave back in to the ceiling. At least he's polite about it.

"Mister Hogan has told me to relay the message that he is now on his way back up stairs." JARVIS' voice seeps through the walls.

"Oh, thank you." Dallas responds to the ceiling.

Maybe he's coming back with company?

Attention fully on the elevator now, Dallas becomes distracted from Clint as she awaits Mr. Hogan's return.

The elevator sings and Hogan himself–alone–walks out with urgency to his step, his chest puffed out in superiority and importance , strides over to the couches and has no hesitance to say, "We're going to a different floor, come on kid. Hey Clint."

"Okay, Mister Hogan." She stands up.

"Wassup Happy." Clint salutes him.

"The usual, come on kid. We don't have all day." He urges her.

Dallas trips on the carpet that had been loose and stumbles over to the man, she almost fell and the fact that she didn't makes her a tad bit proud of herself for not completely embarrassing herself in front of the man who was taking her to Miss Potts when the woman had a busy enough schedule as the receptionist pointed out downstairs.

"Bye Clint, it was nice meeting you!" Dallas has to wave over her shoulder because Hogan is directing her to the elevator so fast and she only catches a glimpse of the other man waving back and grinning like a child, his body climbing back up into the ceiling is the last she saw of him before the elevator closed.

It is so silent in the elevator. There's no tacky music playing or even a soft humming that most motels with an elevator system have, it was just hers and Hogan's breathing side by side.

Silence didn't last long with Dallas. She dreads it, and avoids it best she can most of the time. Talks the ear off of anyone who will listen at a gas station or rest stop if Griffin isn't with her—she really hopes she can go find him soon, she misses him—and people are actually enjoyable and have lots to say. Dallas found it despicable that there are so many people in this world, and yet she'd only know a minuscule portion of them all. So why not chat with each and everyone she could, it's not like humans lived forever.

"So...Mister Hogan, d'you like music?" Dallas asks.

It's cold in the elevator. Cold enough to be noticeable, just not quite to be freezing temperature. This sweater she's wearing is old, and thin, unlike her others in the car. It's more casual and thin against her body. So the breeze creeps over her skin and leaves behind goosebumps.

"Yep, country." He answers.

She holds in a gag, she despises country music. It turns into more of a cough than anything.

"That's, nice." She smiles.

He keeps to himself. That much is obvious. He doesn't even ask her if she likes music, he probably doesn't care and is only doing his job as a security man. It's still disappointing that the silence consumes them, and if this elevator is so high tech why doesn't it go up or down or whatever faster—