icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine:

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine:

I see. *she smiles and lightly laughs* I read a lot, your faces have graced the covers of quite a bit of my reading material. 

Tabloids or official documents, I wonder?

*The lie rolls easily off her tongue* Tabloids. 

~She momentarily purses her lips before forcing them into a faux smile~

I see. Then I would suggest you forget at least 75 percent of what you have learned about both me and Mr. Stark. Tabloids do so enjoy spinning their own truths.

*Her laugh is genuine as she nods in response* Believe me, I know. I don’t take them too seriously.

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine:

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine:

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine replied to your post: theprecisemachine started following you Ah,…

Miss Potts, always a pleasure. The name’s Natasha Krause. ((Sorry, I did not see this!))

{That’s quite alright :’) I miss stuff all the time}

Ah, pleasure indeed. Have we met before?

No, I’m afraid we have not. I am familiar with you though. You’re the CEO of Stark Resilient?

COO, former CEO. Mr. Stark and I have…interesting dynamics. He’s our CEO as of recently. How is it you know us, then?

I see. *she smiles and lightly laughs* I read a lot, your faces have graced the covers of quite a bit of my reading material. 

Tabloids or official documents, I wonder?

*The lie rolls easily off her tongue* Tabloids. 

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine:

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine replied to your post: theprecisemachine started following you Ah,…

Miss Potts, always a pleasure. The name’s Natasha Krause. ((Sorry, I did not see this!))

{That’s quite alright :’) I miss stuff all the time}

Ah, pleasure indeed. Have we met before?

No, I’m afraid we have not. I am familiar with you though. You’re the CEO of Stark Resilient?

COO, former CEO. Mr. Stark and I have…interesting dynamics. He’s our CEO as of recently. How is it you know us, then?

I see. *she smiles and lightly laughs* I read a lot, your faces have graced the covers of quite a bit of my reading material. 

icanspelllamborghini:

theprecisemachine replied to your post: theprecisemachine started following you Ah,…

Miss Potts, always a pleasure. The name’s Natasha Krause. ((Sorry, I did not see this!))

{That’s quite alright :’) I miss stuff all the time}

Ah, pleasure indeed. Have we met before?

No, I’m afraid we have not. I am familiar with you though. You’re the CEO of Stark Resilient?

(Source: children-of-the-stars)

bleedingedgefuturist:

theprecisemachine:

bleedingedgefuturist:

theprecisemachine:

bleedingedgefuturist:

*Tilts his head at her sudden change in expression* Russian, right? You have? What for, if you don’t mind me asking? I know many people know about me but actively doing research is something else. You a journalist? News anchor?

You’re very inquisitive. *She nods smoothly* I am indeed Russian. *She takes a momentary pause.* I’m looking for someone. *She takes slow easy steps around the room not really looking at him.* I have connections. Rather I had them, most of them are dead now, but I think you can help me. If not, I’m sure you must know someone who can.

*His gaze follows the woman’s figure as she walks around the room, something about the way she held herself definitely came off as a different breed of woman. He had seen this kind of….strut or the way she held herself in only one other person: Natasha Romanov. Considering she ignored his question and how she turned this around to be about her in such a smooth and easy manner, she was not a normal person: a civilian.*

So I take it you’re not a journalist, then?

Connections? Maybe, what kind of connections do you mean? *He quirks an eyebrow*.

*Her fingers are grazing over his desk, tripping over pens and papers, she abruptly halts her movement to turn and look at him. Rubbing the pads of calloused and worn fingers with her thumbs she takes an expensive looking silver pen into her possession and writes something on the palm. This man was assessing her, making detailed mental notes. Definitely sharp as tack but she had guessed as much that was one of many reasons she had sought him out. The fact that he didn’t seem to recognize her doesn’t exactly put her at ease, but her breaths do come a little easier.*

Journalism is a daring career. Every journalist I’ve known has managed to get in more trouble than me. *She’s still looking at him, holding eye contact* I need to find someone. The kind of someone who doesn’t want to be found. My resources… *The pause she takes wasn’t planned, she hated to admit she couldn’t do this on her own.* are limited. Do you have the equipment for that kind of search. I need access to satellites. *She feels a little out of touch as she holds her palm out to him, the name Ted Winter written on it. She doesn’t know who is listening or if anyone is but better safe than sorry. She places her hand in her pocket and turns away from him, towards the door* I have to go.

*He continued to stand still, watching her move, he tensed slightly as her fingers wrapped around a pen. The woman was definitely dangerous, however, he didn’t get the vibe that she was here to hurt him. Not that she could, well actually she could if she was quick enough but that was beside the point, she wasn’t here to hurt, but to gather intel. This woman, this  Krause, he would have been able to instantly search her up in SHIELD when he was still director. Unfortunately, he was not. He supposed he could go to Widow for answers but they had not spoken for quite some time and with a name like that, she probably wouldn’t be able to give him much.

Despite that, he would go to both Widow and maybe even Agent Hill, if he were so inclined, to ask about this ‘Ted Winter’. As for her other needs, satellites, even if he wanted to, it would not be something he could provide considering all the things that had occurred over the past few months. He no longer had the resources or money to even afford a satellite or any kind of high tech equipment. He had no one to blame but himself for that disaster, though.

He briefly wondered how she was not aware of the circumstances leading up to his loss of wealth and property but if she were a spy- and one hiding out or on the run for a long time- he could see why she wouldn’t know.

He silent nodded to her as she moved away from him towards the door.*

I’m sorry, I do not have the type of equipment you’re asking for miss, I’ve had troubles of my own these past few months. Doesn’t mean I’m useless, however.

*As he stared at the woman, he briefly wondered what it was about him that attracted female spies, there was this one, and then there was that Walker girl from the CIA.*

*The way his voice hits her ears, stops her. It’s sincere, his words are holding her there in the doorway because sincerity like that could not be faked. She hadn’t heard a voice that even since Peabody. The past year for her was a blur as she had been on the run for most of it, finally spending the latter of it in cabin chasing ghosts. What sort of trouble could he have run into to cause him to lose so much?And how could she have overlooked that fact? She had missed researching him over the past few months. Yet, she knew more than anyone how quickly a person’s life could change, how easily everything could be ripped away from them if put in the perfect circumstance.*

I didn’t think you were.

*Her thumb begins rubbing harshly over her palm in attempt to wipe that bastard Ted Winter’s name off of it. The thought of it staying there for too long infuriates her, but her face remains the same as she turns to regard Stark over her shoulder. She had said her piece she needed to go. Being above ground for too long was dangerous, for everyone. 

I shouldn’t have come here. *This isn’t the way she did things. She was getting reckless, letting her emotions control too much of her. Stark didn’t know her, yet he was willing to help. Remarkable. All she could do in return was possibly endanger his life. *She turns her head and tilts it, looking at newspaper printing with Iron Man on the cover and she finds she can’t leave the room fast enough.*

dontstepinmypuddle:

theprecisemachine started following you

Hello there! How may we help you today?

I’m not a fan of problems but I hear you solve them?

bleedingedgefuturist:

theprecisemachine:

bleedingedgefuturist:

*Tilts his head at her sudden change in expression* Russian, right? You have? What for, if you don’t mind me asking? I know many people know about me but actively doing research is something else. You a journalist? News anchor?

You’re very inquisitive. *She nods smoothly* I am indeed Russian. *She takes a momentary pause.* I’m looking for someone. *She takes slow easy steps around the room not really looking at him.* I have connections. Rather I had them, most of them are dead now, but I think you can help me. If not, I’m sure you must know someone who can.

*His gaze follows the woman’s figure as she walks around the room, something about the way she held herself definitely came off as a different breed of woman. He had seen this kind of….strut or the way she held herself in only one other person: Natasha Romanov. Considering she ignored his question and how she turned this around to be about her in such a smooth and easy manner, she was not a normal person: a civilian.*

So I take it you’re not a journalist, then?

Connections? Maybe, what kind of connections do you mean? *He quirks an eyebrow*.

*Her fingers are grazing over his desk, tripping over pens and papers, she abruptly halts her movement to turn and look at him. Rubbing the pads of calloused and worn fingers with her thumbs she takes an expensive looking silver pen into her possession and writes something on the palm. This man was assessing her, making detailed mental notes. Definitely sharp as tack but she had guessed as much that was one of many reasons she had sought him out. The fact that he didn’t seem to recognize her doesn’t exactly put her at ease, but her breaths do come a little easier.*

Journalism is a daring career. Every journalist I’ve known has managed to get in more trouble than me. *She’s still looking at him, holding eye contact* I need to find someone. The kind of someone who doesn’t want to be found. My resources… *The pause she takes wasn’t planned, she hated to admit she couldn’t do this on her own.* are limited. Do you have the equipment for that kind of search. I need access to satellites. *She feels a little out of touch as she holds her palm out to him, the name Ted Winter written on it. She doesn’t know who is listening or if anyone is but better safe than sorry. She places her hand in her pocket and turns away from him, towards the door* I have to go.

bleedingedgefuturist:

theprecisemachine:

bleedingedgefuturist:

theprecisemachine:

bleedingedgefuturist:

Hello there.

Hello, Stark.

…..Hello there Miss…?

*Evelyn smirks easily.* Krause. *Her smirk falters, she’d never used that name before and the way it fell from her mouth felt almost foreign. She blinks and the smirk is back in place.* I’ve read a lot about you. 

*Tilts his head at her sudden change in expression* Russian, right? You have? What for, if you don’t mind me asking? I know many people know about me but actively doing research is something else. You a journalist? News anchor?

You’re very inquisitive. *She nods smoothly* I am indeed Russian. *She takes a momentary pause.* I’m looking for someone. *She takes slow easy steps around the room not really looking at him.* I have connections. Rather I had them, most of them are dead now, but I think you can help me. If not, I’m sure you must know someone who can.

Hello Mr. Mardon.