Sam's always been a fan of fast talkers, especially the ones who're more than just talk. And that's Tony Stark for you: hell of a guy, an asshole and completely aware of it, designed some of the best Quarry arenas anyone's ever faced. One of a handful old guys still sticking it out in the Company, despite the fact that he doesn't actually have to, and in a room filled with gorgeous young faces, it's nice to have another man of a certain age to pal around with.

The thing with Tony is, he's all about his own personal rulebook, and Sam's all about bending whatever bylaws he can find, no matter the context. So he waits, letting the guy go over why he's not wild about getting harangued at a party, and mentally flips a coin. It's usually fifty-fifty on whether he can get away with this kind of shit, or if they're going to spend the night talking about unrelated stuff.

"Eh, compartmentalization's for schmucks," he says good-naturedly, gesturing vaguely with a whiskey sour. "I been thinking about the Quarry, your end of it--you ever take contractors on?"