Rosetta Stone ▷ Pepper Potts

3 - NOT AS EXPECTED

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. She tapped its murky surface to break the thickening skin, the frigid brown drink dripping from her finger, the ripples spreading toward the rim in ever larger circles, the steam that had risen when she had set it down long gone.

Having woken up late, Mercy was in no hurry to think about the events of last night, content to simply sit there with her hands clasped around her drink, contemplating the day's schedule—of course, she knew what she had to do, but it was nice to let her mind wander to the possibilities, as if she were any other person with a regular brother, one who didn't break and enter to steal items belonging to one of the wealthiest men in the world.

She debated picking her phone up, simply scrolling through anything to put off the moment when she would have to think about what to do, but the thought of knowing she would have to call Daniel was almost nauseating—not to mention she wasn't even sure if she had his cell phone number anymore, considering there were multiple occasions in which she seriously debating deleting, yet, in the end, sighing and deciding against it should she ever need it some day.

She didn't want to need it, of course, but her brother was unpredictable, and it was better to safe than sorry, no matter how angry or hurt she felt.

Despite the conflict, she knew she didn't want to stay alone in her apartment all day, especially when the pit in her stomach only grew with every passing second, the wall clock ticking the timer of a bomb, each dragging her forward while mocking her with her inability to reverse or stop it; she could no more avoid it than the beating of her own heart.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed herself off the couch, making her way to the kitchen with her—now cold—mug of coffee in hand, dumping the beverage down the sink and placing it off to the side as a mental note to wash the dishes later on, stretching and groaning as she realized what she had to do.

Seeing as she wasn't going to work, she opted for something a little less formal, scrutinizing her reflection in the full length mirror with a scrunched nose, puffing out her cheeks as she tugged off outfit after outfit before finally settling on one of her favorites, happily gasping quietly when she noticed the look would appear complete if she went without the jacket and rumpled up her shirt.

It was as if she were in her twenties again, picking out clothing at the mall with her best friend, both laughing as they tried on ridiculous and professional outfits alike, marvelling at how commanding they looked in the latter.

Shaking her head and wringing her hands, she walked to the bathroom, spending a few moments—although it easily could have been longer, seeing as she wasn't wearing her watch yet and she had left her phone in the living room—staring at herself in the mirror, taking in her worn out expression and wrinkled pajamas, resisting the urge to frown at her appearance so as not to further develop wrinkles.

She wouldn't be looking her best, but it would have to do.

Finishing up in the bathroom, it was back to her clothes. Clothing was something she had come to appreciate over the years, especially when she learned early on that it was scientifically proven to effect mood and boost confidence, and, seeing as how she regularly needed all the empowerment she could get, dressing well and utilizing her style became a mechanism for her to tackle whatever or whomever stood in her way to the top.

Stepping back in front of the full length mirror, Mercy admired her lightly tucked button up, placing the blazer back on the hanger after finally deciding to go without it, running a hand through her hair as she thought about what to do with it.