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"No," says Sharon, for what feels like the thousandth time. "That's not acceptable."
The rest of the flight had been uneventful, and once they landed she'd been grimly unsurprised to see that Stark had sent Happy Hogan, his erstwhile chauffeur, to guide them to the apartment they've been assigned. Stark himself had apparently gone somewhere to get out of his armor, somewhat mollified by having gotten them here and under his thumb.
Except Sharon won't stop kicking up a fuss.
Hogan stares at her as she inspects each corner of the apartment. "I can't cut these rooms off from the central security protocols," he says, slowly, like he thinks she's just misheard him.
"Well, you can," she tells him. "Or I can force a cascade in a couple load-bearing subroutines that will shut the whole damn thing down. It's your choice."
The rest of the flight had been uneventful, and once they landed she'd been grimly unsurprised to see that Stark had sent Happy Hogan, his erstwhile chauffeur, to guide them to the apartment they've been assigned. Stark himself had apparently gone somewhere to get out of his armor, somewhat mollified by having gotten them here and under his thumb.
Except Sharon won't stop kicking up a fuss.
Hogan stares at her as she inspects each corner of the apartment. "I can't cut these rooms off from the central security protocols," he says, slowly, like he thinks she's just misheard him.
"Well, you can," she tells him. "Or I can force a cascade in a couple load-bearing subroutines that will shut the whole damn thing down. It's your choice."
