Tony leans in as if confiding a secret. "Hey. You're cute, so I'll bump you up to preposterously expensive, just this once." Maybe 'cute' isn't the right word to describe Stephen, but humor sparkles in Tony's eyes as he pours them both glasses of scotch. "Don't tell anyone else, though, or they'll all insist on the same treatment."
He slides one glass across the bar to Stephen and picks up his own, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the aroma of the booze.
"Honestly? Part of it's just killing time with something to do. You're right, though, it is good PR to be seen at charity galas - the reporters get a picture or two, my image as a philanthropist is maintained, stockholders are happy." And he's used to it by now; he's been going to these things since he was a teenager and able to be trusted to behave himself in public (mostly). Some people get to spend their weekends going on dates or watching movies at home, and Tony Stark goes to charity galas. "My dad had to do it because he was new money and it was important to establish himself with the rest of the rich assholes, and I guess he impressed that on me. Or he passed on a tendency to find one-night stands at benefits, but the first one sounds marginally better and doesn't make me think about my dad sleeping with half of New York before he met my mom." Tony makes a face and takes a sip of his scotch like it'll clear his mind.
"And sometimes you do meet interesting people. Case in point." He gestures to Stephen with the hand holding the glass. "But I believe you wanted to meet JARVIS. You up, buddy?" That last is directed towards the ceiling, although Tony doesn't really need to look up.
"For you, sir? Anytime." A disembodied voice with a crisp British accent seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.
"This is Doctor Stephen Strange. Strange, this is JARVIS, my NLUI. He runs my houses, juggles my schedule, helps with schematics, and probably a half-dozen other things I'm forgetting."
"Only a half-dozen?"
"And he learned sarcasm from me, which is why you should never invent something smarter than you are." Tony shrugs. "You want genius? There it is. Ask him whatever you want."
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He slides one glass across the bar to Stephen and picks up his own, closing his eyes for a moment as he savors the aroma of the booze.
"Honestly? Part of it's just killing time with something to do. You're right, though, it is good PR to be seen at charity galas - the reporters get a picture or two, my image as a philanthropist is maintained, stockholders are happy." And he's used to it by now; he's been going to these things since he was a teenager and able to be trusted to behave himself in public (mostly). Some people get to spend their weekends going on dates or watching movies at home, and Tony Stark goes to charity galas. "My dad had to do it because he was new money and it was important to establish himself with the rest of the rich assholes, and I guess he impressed that on me. Or he passed on a tendency to find one-night stands at benefits, but the first one sounds marginally better and doesn't make me think about my dad sleeping with half of New York before he met my mom." Tony makes a face and takes a sip of his scotch like it'll clear his mind.
"And sometimes you do meet interesting people. Case in point." He gestures to Stephen with the hand holding the glass. "But I believe you wanted to meet JARVIS. You up, buddy?" That last is directed towards the ceiling, although Tony doesn't really need to look up.
"For you, sir? Anytime." A disembodied voice with a crisp British accent seems to come from everywhere and nowhere.
"This is Doctor Stephen Strange. Strange, this is JARVIS, my NLUI. He runs my houses, juggles my schedule, helps with schematics, and probably a half-dozen other things I'm forgetting."
"Only a half-dozen?"
"And he learned sarcasm from me, which is why you should never invent something smarter than you are." Tony shrugs. "You want genius? There it is. Ask him whatever you want."