Illegitimate Prodigy

A Family Meal

Distraction. That was what she needed. A hindrance to take her further and further away from this cumbersome circumstance. Eyes twitching to the cold perspiring glass of water sitting closest to her, she noticed small drops of condensation dripping to the tabletop. She could hear Tony in the kitchen and her neck immediately turn to continue fixating on other things. A picture sat on a black dresser on the other side of the room. It appeared to be a blonde woman--and her father. It was actually the most normal thing that sat within the confines of the Avengers building. Something that wasn't futuristic and brought regularity to the dining room she was sitting in.

Turning the corner, Tony appeared from he confines of the kitchen with two full plates of food. Subconsciously her hand laid itself flatly on her stomach, unsure if she was able to consume all of the food. Everything about this situation was off putting, and her appetite was non-existent. Her father placed the plate directly in front of her, and she immediately dropped her irises to the food. She heard his chair pull out across from her, and the clink of the plate as it touched the glass table. "Chinese," he said under his breath as he sat down.

"What?" Annabelle's eyes lifted, her eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh, the Chinese food," he pointed at his plate. "I hope you don't mind it." He gave an uncomfortable smirk, wadding up an unused napkin to his right. "I couldn't decide on a meal, and it's the only thing Pepper orders that I will usually eat."

Giving a small nod, Annabelle observed that Tony was rather edgy. This man that she followed so avidly as a child--watched on television and read interviews in the papers--his arrogance wasn't making itself present. At least not yet. It was shocking, and it provoked a little uneasiness in her. It's common that individuals like her father were good at hiding their poisonous personality. He couldn't be that toxic though, right? Iron Man? The man that puts his life on line for citizens of the country.

Hand reaching for the fork next to her plate, she gripped it tightly, and dug carefully into the chicken fried rice. "So, I understand you are attending school? What are you studying?" He was prying... why did he care?

"Psychology," her voice muffled from the food, and her wrist immediately met her mouth to pause. "I'm actually in my first year of medical school, now."

Tony swallowed dryly, and still hadn't touched his food. "To become a psychiatrist?" His fist only wadded up tighter around the napkin, and swiftly adjusted his hands to his lap.

"That's the plan. It's been a little tougher lately--just with...everything," Annabelle hesitated, her eyes meeting the reflective glass table top in front of her. Tony couldn't keep still on the other side of the table, and seemed so out of character for him. Even from when she saw him last at her mother's funeral. "I took a break from school to get readjusted."

"Readjusted?" Tony's eyebrows lifted.
"Mmm-hmm," she murmured, unsure if she should move on from the subject. The room went quiet momentarily, and Annabelle could hear Tony's chest rise and fall with every breath.

"Can I ask why you brought me here?" Annabelle broke the silence, her brown hues meeting his. It was like staring into a mirror. Her thumb rubbed the metal of the fork gingerly, and the new silence seemed to make itself infinitely more noticeable. Watching Tony carefully, he sat still. It appeared now that he was holding his breath, memorizing every detail of Annabelle's face. "Tony?" She pushed.

"I..." he averted his gaze, his right hand lifting to adjust his collar along his neck. " I know you are looking for an apartment in the city--in fact already have one." He met her gaze again.

Annabelle's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I--"

" It's a hole in the wall--tiny--dark--depressing. Ridiculously expensive for the amenities you will not have." His hand moved to rest flat on the table, and the other released his tight grip around the white napkin. "I organized this lunch--so that I could speak to you about moving into the tower."

Belle felt her mouth drop in shock and confusion. Brown hues fluttering shut, she laid her fork to rest next to her plate. A burning sensation began to grow in her stomach, and it was leaving her speechless. "What...Tony...You don't have to do this. You don't have to pretend like you care."

"I'm not pretending," Tony retorted, but as soon as he spoke he dropped his gaze. His breath was audible from across the table, and it was obvious he was struggling to find any words at all to say. "I wouldn't be addressing it, if I didn't. I insist." His brown eyes locked in, and Annabelle felt her face lose any blood that was left in her cheeks. The father that she never truly got the opportunity to know, was now asking her to live within in the same quarters as him. Not to mention she was under the impression that he never wanted to her in the first place. What's different now? Twenty-Three years was too little too late by this point.

"I understand your perception of me," he muttered, and paused momentarily to press his lips together. "I am the bad guy in your dysfunctional fairy tale," Annabelle felt her fists clench in her lap, still uncertain on what to say.  It bothered her that he made it sound like she obsessed over him as a child... that she couldn't live without her illegitimate father. Did she think and wonder occasionally? Of course. Any fatherless daughter would. Did she obsess like he so narcissistically made it sound? No.

"but I am not the pernicious human being that you think I am."

Crossing her arms over her chest, almost like a protection to keep any kind of negativity out, she continued to stare. An exhausted sigh escaped the confines of her throat, she then gave a slight nod. "Okay."