Tony smiles back. "Well, if you do, the AI recognizes voice commands." He gestures vaguely, indicating that the whole place is AI-enabled. "She'll hook you up. Okay— gotta run." He's cutting it close on time. He's lucky he doesn't have to commute.
---
He returns as promised several hours later, looking a little less crisp but somehow still stylish. 'Deliberately tousled business formal' is a good look for him. "I really hate those," he complains, though he doesn't actually seem all that annoyed. Maybe eating a real meal for breakfast instead of coffee and whatever's lying around has put him in a good mood.
He's carrying a small assortment of items, and he waves Gene over to the kitchen island and spreads them out. "Phone, tablet." He pushes the devices over to Gene. They're brand new, top-of-the-line Stark products. "You've got my number programmed in, and Trish. Steven's the guy who runs the fleet, so give him a call if you need a ride. Mina coordinates the household staff. Grocery orders go through her, and if the oven explodes or whatever, she'll get it fixed." He slides over the next item. "ID card." It's Gene's government photo ID, newly issued to reflect his change of ownership.
Two more plastic cards joins the pile. "Credit card, if you feel like hitting the Fulton Fish Market and personally communing with the sushi. Go wild." Tony knows chefs can be incredibly snobby about their ingredients, and he doesn't have a problem with Gene spending a little extra money hand-picking his. "Just don't try anything funny with it, our personal accountant is scary, and might be a mutant with some kind of finance-based superpower. This one's yours," he says, indicating the second card. "Discretionary allowance is $500 a month, to start. Anything you don't spend is credited to your account, so don't worry about stuffing cash under your mattress."
There's one item left on Tony's side of the island - an unassuming metal bracelet - but he leaves it untouched for now.
"You're on for regular meals, minus whatever my schedule says I'm not around for. Other than that, you're on your own. You're free to come and go, just check in and out with whoever's at the desk downstairs. You can take religious holidays," as per federal regulations, "and personal days are on request, with two weeks notice. The tailor will be here at 3."
Phew. That was quite a spiel to run through. Tony smiles at Gene. "Sound good? Did I miss anything?"
no subject
---
He returns as promised several hours later, looking a little less crisp but somehow still stylish. 'Deliberately tousled business formal' is a good look for him. "I really hate those," he complains, though he doesn't actually seem all that annoyed. Maybe eating a real meal for breakfast instead of coffee and whatever's lying around has put him in a good mood.
He's carrying a small assortment of items, and he waves Gene over to the kitchen island and spreads them out. "Phone, tablet." He pushes the devices over to Gene. They're brand new, top-of-the-line Stark products. "You've got my number programmed in, and Trish. Steven's the guy who runs the fleet, so give him a call if you need a ride. Mina coordinates the household staff. Grocery orders go through her, and if the oven explodes or whatever, she'll get it fixed." He slides over the next item. "ID card." It's Gene's government photo ID, newly issued to reflect his change of ownership.
Two more plastic cards joins the pile. "Credit card, if you feel like hitting the Fulton Fish Market and personally communing with the sushi. Go wild." Tony knows chefs can be incredibly snobby about their ingredients, and he doesn't have a problem with Gene spending a little extra money hand-picking his. "Just don't try anything funny with it, our personal accountant is scary, and might be a mutant with some kind of finance-based superpower. This one's yours," he says, indicating the second card. "Discretionary allowance is $500 a month, to start. Anything you don't spend is credited to your account, so don't worry about stuffing cash under your mattress."
There's one item left on Tony's side of the island - an unassuming metal bracelet - but he leaves it untouched for now.
"You're on for regular meals, minus whatever my schedule says I'm not around for. Other than that, you're on your own. You're free to come and go, just check in and out with whoever's at the desk downstairs. You can take religious holidays," as per federal regulations, "and personal days are on request, with two weeks notice. The tailor will be here at 3."
Phew. That was quite a spiel to run through. Tony smiles at Gene. "Sound good? Did I miss anything?"