Jack Kadere didn't mind Christina sitting beside him.
Sure, she didn't meet his standards for serious companionship, but with her curvy figure, deliberately seductive posture, and an outfit that could have been pulled straight from a Maxim cover shoot, she was—at the very least—a pleasant sight.
It was the same logic he applied when watching short videos online. The women there weren't as beautiful as his girlfriends, but that never stopped him from enjoying the view.
Pure visual appreciation. No emotional price tag attached.
Tony Stark ignored Christina entirely and kept talking to Jack.
"Did you ride here on your motorcycle?"
Jack glanced at him, expression flat. "No, I teleported in on a cloud of sarcasm. Yes, the bike."
Pepper stifled a laugh. Christina didn't even try.
Pepper smiled. "Mr. Kadere, you have quite the sense of humor."
From behind the cover of the coffee table, Christina stealthily took Jack's hand and tried to place it on her thigh. Her intentions were… obvious.
Jack paused, and instead of following her lead, he lightly traced a string of English letters onto her skin with his fingernail.
The ticklish sensation made Christina's body shiver.
Her first thought was—As expected of a romantic artist. Even something so small feels exciting. Much more charming than Stark.
But when she glanced down and deciphered the letters, she nearly frowned. They spelled:
"Have you taken a shower?"
The implication was clear. Jack was subtly expressing his distaste for the fact she'd just spent the night with Tony.
An artist with a touch of mysophobia? she thought.
....
Tony tried to clarify his earlier question. "No, I mean…"
He activated a holographic projection from J.A.R.V.I.S., showing a feed from outside where Vinica—the bike—was still parked and "calling" loudly.
"It's just strange," Tony said. "A guy like you showing up on such a flashy, custom bike…"
Dirty, dirty, dirty—!
The blaring electronic chime from the bike's external speakers echoed through the living room.
"Why is she still hooting?" Tony rubbed his ear. "If there's something wrong with your bike, I could help you fix it."
DIRTY, DIRTY, DIRTY—!
The tone sharpened like an irate horn.
"Oh, so it has multiple sound settings? What a weird design," Tony muttered.
DIRTY—!!!
Jack sighed. "Okay, Tony. Stop critiquing my ride."
To avoid Vinica's protective subroutines from deciding Stark was a threat, Jack called out toward the door: "Vinica, stand down."
DIRTY.
The sound finally ceased.
"Voice-controlled?" Tony tilted his head. "Interesting. If you're into little gimmicks like that, I could help upgrade the—"
"Shut up, Tony."
Jack reached over to the fruit bowl on the coffee table, picked up an oval-shaped tropical fruit, and—with lightning speed—shoved it straight into Stark's mouth.
"Cough!" Tony spluttered, yanking the banana free. "Hey, I don't like bananas. That was just for decoration!"
Jack's swift, unexpected movement had caught him completely off guard.
"Is that part of your combat skills training?" Tony asked, tossing the banana into the trash. "Because if so, I'm ready to start right after breakfast."
...
Seeing that Jack and Stark were nearly done with their banter, Christina grew nervous. If Stark was about to wrap things up, she figured her time here was almost up too.
So she pushed aside her earlier annoyance, took Jack's hand again, and traced letters onto her own thigh with his fingertips:
"I have taken a shower, sir. Squeaky clean~"
Of course, she and Stark had both showered before they'd emerged from the bedroom—that explained the long delay in Tony's arrival downstairs.
After spelling the words, she pressed Jack's palm more firmly against her leg, guiding it upward.
This time, he didn't immediately pull away—much to her silent delight.
But every time she tried to move his hand higher, he simply slid it away again. Casual contact was fine, but anything more? No thanks.
Even if she and Tony had been responsible about it, the whole situation still… gave him some misgivings.
...
"Hello, Mr. Kadere. I've heard a lot about you," Christina said once Jack's chat with Tony lulled.
Her tone was confident—completely unaware that Jack had already dismissed her.
"I've always wanted to interview the legendary painter, but I never expected to meet you at Stark's house. I'm Christina Ever, reporter for Vanity Fair. Could I schedule a private interview? Do you have time?"
Interviewing Jack Kadere would make great material, and even if she did it for free, it'd be worth the publicity. If she could also convince him to paint her portrait, she could flaunt it in the socialite scene for years.
Jack's eyes dropped pointedly to Christina's skimpy, hastily thrown-on outfit.
"Ms. Ever… is this how reporters from Vanity Fair usually conduct interviews?"
His tone left no doubt about his meaning.
Private interview? Girl, you might want to cover up first.
With her hair still mussed from the night, makeup smudged, and Stark's shirt barely buttoned, it was hard to imagine this as a "serious" journalistic moment.
Coming for an interview without even bothering to get dressed properly… it was like showing up to a business meeting with a Molotov cocktail.
"I think you'll like it~" Christina replied without missing a beat—ignoring the obvious subtext.
(Why pretend? she thought. Your hand was on my leg not two minutes ago.)
She threw him a sultry smile. "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Stark. He's got plenty to say about our… session. We just wrapped up a great interview."
Hearing that, Tony Stark, lounging on the opposite sofa, looked up and said casually, "Oh yeah, her interview was great. Jack, if you're interested, I could lend you a private interview room~"
Then, mouthing exaggeratedly, he mimed— [She washed up.]
"How generous of you, Tony."
Jack rolled his eyes. He was here for actual business, not whatever Stark was implying. Why did it feel like Tony had become even more shameless lately?
Pepper Potts clearly couldn't take any more of this circus. She stood, fetched a hanger with Christina's dry-cleaned clothes, and handed them over. "Ma'am, your clothes. Freshly cleaned and pressed."
The unspoken message was obvious—enough playing around, get dressed.
"Oh~ thank you~"
Christina chuckled, took the plastic-wrapped garments, and—rather than leave—sat down right beside Jack, starting to change right there. Those long legs were lifted way higher than necessary.
A vein visibly pulsed on Pepper's forehead. Choosing the "out of sight, out of mind" approach, she turned to Stark. "I'll prepare breakfast for you."
"Go ahead, Pepper."
"You…"
She stopped herself, shot Christina one last warning look, and added, "Let's keep the conversation appropriate, shall we?"
If she didn't know for certain Tony wouldn't crawl back to an ex, she'd be far more worried about what these two men and one woman might get up to in the living room.
...
"How about it?"
Once Pepper left, Christina seemed far more at ease. She slipped on her blouse, leaned in close, hugging Jack's arm and pressing her curves against him. "Mr. Kadere, what do you say about that interview?"
Jack figured now that the other woman had left, he could be more direct. Still, he wasn't about to say, You're not my type, I'm not interested. That would be unnecessarily rude.
Instead, he offered a polite dodge. "Ms. Christine—don't you think we don't exactly… click?"
Christina blinked. You were touching my leg earlier, and now I'm suddenly not worth your time because I put clothes on?
"Christine," Tony said suddenly, switching into host-dismissal mode, "your car's been waiting for a while. We should be kind to the driver, right?"
He didn't particularly care about her, but watching a woman he'd just spent the night with fawn over another man—right in front of him—wasn't exactly comfortable.
Christina bit back a curse—all men are the same!—but she still wasn't ready to give up entirely. On her way out, she slipped Jack a small folded note.
....
Once she was gone, Jack unfolded it. A phone number.
A faint blue spark danced over his fingertips, and the paper burst into a small flame.
Tony stared. "Wait—your martial arts training lets you turn your hand into a lighter?"
Jack dropped the ashes neatly into an ashtray. "Not something you can just pick up, Tony. Let's just call it natural talent."
Tony glanced at the smoldering ashes, grinning. "She's actually pretty good. Why not give her a chance?"
"I have a distinctly different sense of aesthetics, Tony." Jack brushed his hands off and stood. "Now—let's get some breakfast in you, then I'll teach you a few moves."
...
"I hear you've been buying up a lot of stock lately?"
In Stark's private training gym, inside a boxing ring, Tony was gloved up, throwing jabs at Jack. "You do know my stock's been tanking since I shut down the weapons division, right? You trust me that much?"
"Focus, Tony."
Jack sidestepped easily and, with a sweep of his leg, sent Stark stumbling. "This isn't a boxing match. Your fundamentals are way off, Iron Man."
"Hey, hey, hey! You know who you're talking to?"
Tony scrambled up, going in for another punch. "Being a superhero isn't as easy as you think."
"Oh?"
Jack caught his arm, used his momentum, and flipped him flat on his back. "A superhero doesn't get hung up on ring rules. Villains don't fight fair."
"Ow…"
Tony stayed seated this time, rubbing his back. "Okay, okay, I get it. That's enough for today. I've learned plenty."
Jack hopped down from the ring, accepting a cup of black tea from one of J.A.R.V.I.S.'s mechanical arms. "Then practice. A lot."
"Hey," Tony said suddenly, "want to take a look at my Iron Man suits?"
...
It was pretty obvious Tony wanted to salvage some dignity, so he led Jack down to his workshop.
Inside, Jack spotted a familiar face—Dr. Ho Yinsen—well, here more in the role of Tony's lab partner.
Tony strode over to one of his armor display platforms, spread his arms dramatically, and beamed. "So? What do you think?"
Jack stepped up, giving the armor's gleaming red-and-gold plating a knuckle tap. "What's the big deal?"
With his Quake abilities, he could probably tear this Mark-series armor apart without much effort.
Tony's grin faltered. "Jack, you could at least pretend to be impressed."
Yinsen chuckled from the workbench where he was tinkering with a dismantled suit. "Tony, only groupies scream for you."
"Exactly," Jack said, holding out a hand. "Jack Kadere."
"Yinsen," the doctor replied, shaking it firmly.
Jack's gaze drifted to the silver-gray armor spread out across the bench in several large pieces. "What's this for?"
He recognized it instantly—it was the Iron Monger suit, Obadiah Stane's knockoff of Stark tech. Jack had taken Stane down before the man even got to power it up.
"Tony brought this back," Yinsen explained with a small laugh. "Said he wanted me to do something with it. Honestly, I'm just helping strip it for parts."
"Yeah," Tony said, walking over. "This thing almost got me killed. If it weren't for Black Spider, I'd be toast."
"You owe him a lot, Tony," Yinsen said. "We both do."
Jack raised a brow. "Actually… I am the Black Spider."
"Oh, sure you are," Tony said with a grin, patting Jack's shoulder. "Makes sense why you're not into my armor—you're a fanboy for another guy in a suit."
Yinsen smiled too, clearly unconvinced.
Jack just shrugged. If they didn't want to believe him, fine—he wasn't going to waste his breath. They'd figure it out eventually.
"Since you like superheroes so much," Tony said, gesturing at the dismantled Iron Monger, "why not take this thing? Ever thought about trying it out yourself? You could make it work."
Jack glanced at the hulking components. Let him pilot the Iron Monger? Hard pass. Even without its infamous high-altitude freezing flaw, it wasn't his style. "Forget it. Give it to Yinsen."
"Fair enough," Tony said, giving up. "In that case, how about you join me at the Stark Expo in Flushing tonight?"
"Stark Industries Expo?" Jack tilted his head. So that was it—Tony wanted an audience for his big moment.
....
Hours later – 18:00
The music blasting through the transport plane's speakers made Jack pinch the bridge of his nose. "Can't you turn this noise off, Tony?"
Tony, suited up in full Iron Man armor, stood at the open hatch like a rockstar before a stage dive. "It's called setting the mood."
"Your taste is still as bad as ever," Jack said flatly.
"Jarvis, kill the music," Tony ordered. The AI complied instantly. "We've reached the drop point."
Jack nodded toward the cargo strapped down behind them. "Be careful not to drop my motorcycle while you're making an entrance."
That's right—his bike, Vinica, had been checked in for the trip. Jack planned to leave straight from the Expo rather than go back to Stark's place.
"Watch and learn, Jack!" Tony called, stepping to the edge.
The hatch yawned open, city lights sparkling far below. Fireworks were already bursting over the Stark Expo grounds.
"Because I'm the one who's gonna make you burn!" blasted from the suit's external speakers as Tony leapt.
Jack leaned against the hatch frame, watching him descend through a cascade of pyrotechnics. For the first few seconds, he had to admit—it was a slick show.
Until—
Bang!
A firework went off directly in front of him, smacking Iron Man square in the helmet.
"…Seriously?" Jack muttered, shaking his head. "Jarvis, take us down."
[Understood, Mr. Kadere.]