How long had it been since he’d been to the compound? A year? Two? No. It had to have been more than that. The last time he had stepped foot within the boundary was before he’d started in earnest at MIT. Right after Elliot left, right after everything had started to change. When he’d been a child, when his brain had started to bloom and grow, Stark Industries’ North American Think Tank had been his own personal playground. Well, their playground. His and his twin’s.

Five years then. Since he was fourteen. That was the reason that the roads which he traversed seemed so different than they once had. Why everything did. Thin and pale fingers gripped at the leather covered steering wheel, bright blue eyes taking in the surroundings that rushed by. Jarvis had been the one to drive him, last time. The one to drive them. Elliot had been there too. Elliot had always been there, until she wasn’t. Until the time that her genes had shown themselves to be what they were, and revealed her to be the traitor that she was.

All of that. Her, her genes; the change and the rift which sprung up between them. These were the things behind the reasoning of that which he had made, a device that would change the world, that would change his life and that, hopefully, would gain the attention and praise of his father. He had spent years on it, first dreaming it up before going through one prototype and then another, testing it out on unknowing and likely unwilling subjects, until he knew, until he was sure. It was perfect now, free of bugs and glitches, ready to be approved and marketed and sold. Finally he would have something that would gain praise, that would bring profit, that would earn the name that sat so heavily upon his shoulders.

Finally. But first Tony had to find him. And. Like usual, Howard was anywhere but within his office.

Fifteen minutes of searching had passed, and almost as many text messages fired off. They’d had an appointment. His dad was supposed to have been there. Something had come up, Tony was certain, something always did … maybe though, maybe his Dad was just in the lower levels and had lost track of time, maybe he hadn’t been forgotten so easily, put off once more in for one project or another.

Jaw tense Tony made his way down to security from his father’s office , the bioscanners could find Howard, even if Tony couldn’t, right?

Silky and brown hair rested at the nape of an almost elegant neck, drawing blue and wandering eyes. No one else was there, at the station, but Tony hardly thought that odd. Explosions, renegade experiments, just your normal day within SI. Her state of dress did nothing to hint towards her occupation, and even if she’d been wearing the standard lab gear, Tony wouldn’t have noticed. “You seen Paul?” He asked, without introduction, oozing all the entitlement that being in that place brought to him. “I need him to do something for me.”

Work was a fair drive for Kitty every day, but she could hardly complain about that. It just meant she had more time to sing at the top of her lungs in her slightly off-key voice with no one around to complain about it. She did not understand why her coworkers were so against music while they worked, didn't they know it fueled the creative juices? But in order to keep the peace she generally refrained from singing when there were other ears around, though humming, well, as long as she kept it very, very, quiet they had no reason to complain.

It had been hours since she'd entered the compound, though, hours since she'd belted out that last tune while parking her car, and since she was currently alone, blissfully alone, the phaser saw nothing amiss with singing aloud. She did keep it relatively quiet, at least, just in case someone should wander in, head bobbing and one foot tapping along to the beat of music heard only in her own head. Thumbs tapped away at the screen on her iPhone, updating her grocery list while she remembered that she was nearly out of coffee (it was important to make note of these things when they were at the forefront of her mind, otherwise they'd get lost all too easily amid all the mental clutter).

A voice surprised her, silencing her mid-lyric as her head turned sharply to regard the one invading her private little sanctuary (she knew it was too much to ask for it to remain company-free). Having her glasses on (for a change), the face remained blurred until she nudged them lower down her nose with one finger, sharp gaze recognizing the man, boy really, for who he was in an instant. The face of Tony Stark was one that was instantly recognizable, especially in the technological community, especially especially when you worked for his father. "Hello to you too," she remarked dryly, though she supposed she shouldn't have expected much else from him. From what she heard, Tony wasn't one to care overly much for social convention, so why bother with common courtesy?

"Who's Paul?" she asked him next, though she didn't actually wait for a proper answer before piping up again, the question waved away with a flick of her fingers. "Not that it matters, I guess, obviously he's not here." Being sarcastic with the boss' son? Brilliant, Kitty. Glasses were removed from her face, tossed down on the console in front of her with a casual air while the phone was laid down next to them with a bit more care. Didn't take a rocket scientist to guess which one she cared more about. She pivoted to face him head-on, hands falling to rest on her hips as she shot him a questioning look. "But I am. Also obviously. What do you need?"

Recognition was a common thing, at least for Tony Stark, at least in his life. For ages he’d been noticed by people when out and about, First when he’d been an infant, toddling along with his sister, their hands held by some nanny or another. Later, when they’d gone out with Jarvis, Elliot and he dressed up like designer dolls, spitting images of their respective parents, all grace and class and properly ironed lines. Well, mostly for the latter. They were a rowdy set of twins, and even Jarvis was unable to keep them in line all of the time.

Still, though, he’d seen that look, the one now given to him by the brunette before him. It wasn’t always a vast difference from whoever was doing the noticing’s normal appearance, just a twitch of a lip, the raise of a brow. Tony wasn’t concerned enough to identify what change in facial expressions conveyed it, he just simply knew when they did, and when recognition occurred. She knew him, or knew of him, but then again, who didn’t?

A slow and self-satisfied smile moved lazily across his mouth, somehow her recognition of him made things different, made them normal. But the again, how was this day any different than all the others. He was inside of Stark Industries, and he’d not been there for ages, but outside of that all things seemingly remained the same. He had an appointment with his father, and it had been missed, forgotten, postponed or put aside, this was normal, this was usual. Howard rarely found time for his son. Before the twins had fought against such weight together, but now, alone, it seemed so much heavier.

But he wasn’t alone anymore and she was responding to him, to his question, moving past the noting that she knew who he was and continuing on. “Paul.” He repeatedly plainly, slowly, as if her learning curve had a higher slope than others. “Head of Security.” His eyebrows rose as his eyes mocked her and her lack of wherewithal. Who worked here and didn’t know things like that? Who worked in SI and didn’t know Paul.

“Obviously he’s not here.” Condescension crept into his tone as he repeated what she stated, “If he was I wouldn’t be asking you if you’d seen him, now would I?” Lazy smile having turned into a smirk, Tony shifted the package in his hand and leaned against the torso-high countertop. “And if you don’t know who Paul is, I’m not guessing that you can help me at all.” His vision had wandered as he spoke, away from her and around the room, only to rest on her face once more. “At least, not with this.”

He smiled, but it wasn't with any real sense of warmth or greeting, it wasn't even an empty social placeholder. It was nearly a smirk, in fact, and Kitty fought back the urge to roll her eyes at him. He was just a kid, after all, a brilliant one sure, but still just a teen with an ego three sizes too big from the looks of it. Or maybe she'd been soaking up too many opinions from twitter and the social gossip rags. Either way she reminded herself to take a deep breath and conduct herself like an adult. Because unlike him she was one, no matter how childish she could often act.

It was made more difficult when he spoke again, with that universal 'you are dumber than me' tone of voice, and Kitty visibly bristled, back teeth grinding together as she tried to force patience upon herself. (Which wasn't really her strong suit, to be honest, she could be rather prickly when her buttons were pushed.) No one enjoyed being talked down to, and the brunette was a firm believer in explaining things in a way that everyone could understand without making it obvious you thought they were an idiot. Even if they were one, which she wasn't.

Things cleared for her somewhat as he stated Paul's title, however, and the storm brewing on her face cleared in an instant, replaced by a subtly amused smile, one that so clearly advertised that she knew something he didn't. She remembered Paul now, of course, the man she'd taken over for, but that had been several years ago now so was it any wonder he hadn't immediately jumped to mind? SI probably had other Pauls as well, it was a fairly common name, just none that she worked with on a regular basis. Kitty let him go on, humoring his attitude now as she dropped into a nearby chair, feigning a look of serious intent as she nodded along with his assessment of her ability to offer aid.

"Finished?" she queried sweetly, folding one long leg over the other at the knee. "Silly me, expecting a Stark to be up to date on who runs his departments, but you're probably too busy with schoolwork." Of course she knew he'd long since finished with that, everyone in their line of work knew about the twin geniuses in the Stark family, though by all accounts Elliot outshone Tony at every turn. Kitty approved, of course, girl power and all that. "I'm Head of Security. Have been for a while. Kitty Pryde, to spare you the embarrassment of having to look it up." This was the part where one normally offered a hand to shake (and usually introduced oneself with less snark), but Kitty remained unmoving in her chair except for the absent jiggling of one foot. Her expression had dropped from amused to briskly, coolly business-like, and she arched a brow at Tony. "So either tell me what you need, or shoo. Some of us have work to do."

Okay so normally she wasn't that bitchy, but he started it with that attitude. He may be a Stark, but that didn't excuse his lack of social graces.

Her tone, her voice and the word she used immediately irked him. Unlike his father, his mother, or possibly even his twin, Tony was no expert at hiding his emotions. He’d never had any need to, and he’d never cared what other people’s reactions were to the expression on his face. Because of this the woman’s saccharine soaked question brought out drawn brows and obvious irritation. Just who did she think she was, talking to him like that? He had a mind to leave, to turn and storm from the room looking for another way to locate his father. He would do something about her later. Hack her file; ruin her career, anything that his all too active mind could come up with to pay her back. She kept talking, too, digging her grave deeper (that grave being an all too figurative one, what with Tony never being one to dirty his hands digging anything, much less killing someone). He wouldn’t let her get away with talking to him like that, he wouldn’t let anyone …

… except, except as she continued more was revealed and the features of his face which had twisted into ire were suddenly erased, wiped clean, an all too happy smile breaking across that which had been dark as storm clouds as ragged barks of laughter freed themselves from his mouth. “You?” He asked, his dubiousness obvious in not only his appearance but his tone. “Who’d you have to sleep with in HR to get that sort of power? It wasn’t that Jack guy was it?” Once more he was back to leaning on the counter, the mirth on his face matching the amusement in his tone. “I mean, I’m sure a job like this is worth it to someone like you.” Light blue raked over the specimen before him, “But really Kit-Kat,” A nickname unearned bounced off his tongue. “He's kind of gross, and even you could do better.”

His fingers tapped a staccato rhythm on the package he held. “I needed something from Paul, but since you’re neither him or qualified for this job,” Really, she didn’t look like she was ready to be head of anything much less the security of Stark Industries. “ I’ll just get what I need from someone else.”