As Peter stepped into the laboratory, he still had a lingering chill on his body. The cold morning breeze had made his cheeks a little red, and he exhaled a breath of air and put down his backpack.
The warm air in the laboratory made his forehead slightly sweaty. He took off his coat and threw it on the back of a chair. Stark woke up a little confused, and Peter said, "I heard from Dr. Schiller that you're troubled about sothing. Today happens to be a school holiday, and I'm not interested in those football gas. I think we can solve these troubles together, but first..."
He took out a bag from his backpack, struggling to hold it because it was still hot, and said, "I brought the best pancakes from near the school. Luckily, I rode fast enough so they haven't cooled yet."
Then he turned and looked at the coffee machine in the corner. He put the pancake bag aside and ran to the coffee machine, saying as he fiddled with it, "Let's have a cup of coffee. Dr. Schiller's espresso is just too bitter. I really can't drink it. Let see, I want a double milk double sugar latte. What do you want, Mr. Stark?"
Stark sat by the window, propping his head with his hand, still feeling a bit dizzy.
Peter, bustling with the energy and vitality unique to his age, was like the bustling early mornings of New York. Although he seed too lively and a little funny, it was this vitality that made Stark's frozen heart beat again at night.
Peter held two cups of coffee on a tray in one hand and carried the bag of pancakes in the other, then put everything on the table.
Peter opened the package of pancakes and squeezed the accompanying sauce on top before handing it to Stark. Stark actually didn't like accepting things, but he still took it and took a bite.
In fact, Peter and Stark's tastes were not the sa. Peter liked to eat things with heavy seasoning and various sauces, but Stark's taste was light. He took a bite of the pancake, but the sowhat overpowering taste of the sauce covered the scent of the cake itself. In Stark's opinion, it wasn't very tasty.
But fortunately, as Peter said, the pancakes had just co out of the oven in the morning, and Peter was fast enough to cross half of New York with it, and they still hadn't cooled down. With the fragrant coffee, Stark felt a warm flow surging in his chest, and he felt like he was alive again.
Throughout the whole night, Stark hadn't felt like crying, or rather, that emotion had been accumulating in his heart, unable to rush to his eyes.
But it was this ordinary breakfast that gave Stark a feeling of salvation. He had never thought that he would be moved to tears by a two-dollar pancake.
On the other side, Peter didn't look too good while eating. He had squeezed too much sauce, and a lot of it was stuck in the corners of his mouth. As usual, he took a big bite and chewed it incessantly in his mouth.
The steaming breakfast made him sweat even more, and he tugged at his collar. His clothes beca sowhat disheveled.
This image and this breakfast were out of place with the environnt of Stark Tower. Everywhere there were cold-colored tals, all sorts of high-end experintal instrunts, and regularly flickering lights.
It was like a colorful paintbrush had been forcefully brushed onto a cold and orderly chanical component.
But Peter wasn't affected at all. He quickly finished a pancake, then chugged down a large cup of coffee, and finally slumped back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.
Peter wiped his mouth and said, "It's so good. I used to only be able to eat once a week because, as you know, although this place is delicious, it's a bit expensive. If I eat at the school cafeteria, I can save half the money."
"But I really don't like the sausages in the school cafeteria, so whenever Uncle Ben gives pocket money, I'll go eat here once."
"Gwen likes this place too. Now, we go there for a al after school every day. I used to complain that the seats there weren't enough, but with Gwen, we squeeze into a corner, eat and chat. Is there anything better than this?"
Stark looked down at the whole pancake in his hand, which now only had a piece of packaging paper left on it, with so sauce residue. His coffee on the left was also empty.
"This is my first ti eating this stuff," Stark said.
Peter was a bit surprised and said, "Really? Pancakes are quite popular where we're from. Almost everyone in school loves to eat them."
"Do you know Thompson? I ntioned him to you before, the big guy in our class who plays football. He can eat up to five portions in one sitting. Last ti he insisted I bring him breakfast. If it weren't for the extra tip he gave , I wouldn't have carried so many bags for him."
Then Peter said with so relief, "But it's okay, everything has a first ti. How about it? The taste is not bad, right?"
Stark clicked his tongue, he had to admit that human taste buds tend to prefer richer flavors. Although those sauces may not be healthy, they are actually quite delicious.
After finishing the al, Peter stood in front of the lab table. He originally wanted to see if Stark had any new ideas for ch armor, but then he noticed the stack of books and docunts.
In contrast to Pepper, Peter could understand the complex experintal data, but he was completely unable to comprehend these lengthy dissertations.
He picked up one of them, glanced at it, then covered his eyes and said, "I think I don't know English anymore. Help! I seem to recognize every word in here, but they all seem very unfamiliar..."
"I think sooner or later, you'll have to learn these things," Stark said.
Peter shook his head and said, "That's why my dream has never been to start a company or be the world's richest person or sothing like that. I know I can't understand these things. I might not even be able to hire employees because I don't know what they're thinking. I might even ss up business negotiations..."
Stark's hand holding the book stiffened.
Peter's words reminded him that he wasn't being forced to learn these things. He had chosen to keep Stark Industries. If he chose to give up the company and beco an independent street hero like Peter, he wouldn't need to learn these things at all.
As long as he had his genius brain, he could build a ch armor even if he picked up materials from the garbage dump.
So why did he choose to keep the company? Stark thought that the pain of learning these things didn't seem to be any less than rummaging through garbage dumps.
Then Stark thought of Pepper, Obadiah, and his father.
At that mont, J.A.R.V.I.S. reminded him, "Mr. Steve is here to visit."
"Close the door and refuse the visit."
But it was too late. Steve had already appeared at the door of the laboratory. He held his arms and said, "Schiller said you seem to be in trouble, so I ca here to mock you."
"Shut up, or I'll put on the ch armor and beat you up right now."
"I haven't settled the account with you yet. You still owe for blowing up my ch armor."
"That's your own fault."
The two of them quarreled for a few words, and it seed that they were about to fight. Peter stood between them, holding out his arms to stop them.
Steve said, "Originally, I still had so clues about your father's legacy, but it seems that you don't want to hear it now."
Stark was taken aback, and he said suspiciously, "Does my father have other legacies? Are you lying to ?"
Steve shook his head and said, "I don't know the truth about your father's death, but I know things are not that simple. He was likely prepared a long ti ago..."
So Stark pursed his lips and asked, "Where is the thing?"
"Actually, it should be right at the old site of Stark Industries, but you shouldn't get your hopes up too much. He wouldn't keep anything important there."
"You an Howard Automotive Company? J.A.R.V.I.S, didn't you get Obadiah's research data from there last ti?"
"Yes, sir. However, there are two locations for this old site. Stark Industries has relocated before, so I've sent ch armor to search each location separately."
"It seems like you really care about your father," Steve said.
"I don't. I just-"
"No, I'm serious. You don't have to deny it. I can only tell you that the actions your father was involved in and his death weren't that simple. He-"
Steve paused for a mont, seeming hesitant, but he still said, "Maybe to you, he wasn't a good father, but to , he must have been a good partner. What do you think created this difference?"
Stark frowned. He could tell that Steve was trying to remind him of sothing, but he didn't want to say more, which made him feel a bit anxious.
He now understood the purpose of Schiller's request for him to read those theoretical books. Now, he could find corresponding entries in his mind for every move Steve made. This could help Stark view his attitude from a more objective perspective. In the past, he would have already grabbed Steve by the collar and forced him to speak clearly.
But now, he could feel that Steve wanted to remind him of sothing, but he couldn't say it directly. Even if he asked, the most that would happen is they would fight, and Steve might still think he was being unreasonable.
Stark felt for the first ti the usefulness of what he had learned. It could prevent him from wasting his energy and make him appear smarter and more elusive in the eyes of others.
Steve saw that Stark didn't react much and was just thinking in place, which surprised him. What's wrong with Stark today? Is he sick? He was originally prepared for Stark to beco hysterical and force him to tell the truth.
Could it be that Stark also knows sothing?
But it's also possible, Steve thought. The Stark family are all extrely intelligent people, and perhaps Tony Stark Jr. just didn't like him before, but he should still be dependable when it cos to serious matters.
Peter couldn't quite understand the subtle atmosphere between the adults, so he had to ask, "Captain, do you want a cup of coffee?"
"No, I just ca to deliver a ssage. I haven't gone for my morning run yet."
"Oh, right." Peter took out a lunch box from his backpack and said, "This is a lunch box I took from Dr. Schiller a few days ago. Captain, if you pass by the clinic, please return it to him. Oh, and there are two portions of pancakes inside, one for each of you. The sauces are in the compartnts on the side..."
Steve opened the lid and glanced inside, saying, "Just give them all to Schiller. I can't eat things with too much sauce. In fact, I don't understand why you guys love xican food so much, the taste is too strong."
"Alright, then let's give them all to the doctor. See you later."
After Steve left, the ch armor quickly flew in through the window. One of the ch armors was holding a slightly worn-out leather bag in its hand. Stark didn't care about the dust on it as he flipped through it, only to find that there was only one worn-out notebook inside.
Stark opened the notebook and saw that half of it seed to have been soaked in alcohol. After opening it, he didn't find any useful information.
There were indeed Howard's handwriting on it, but most of it was nonsensical ramblings he wrote when he was drunk, with random scribbles and ssy letters that couldn't make sense of anything.
Stark put down the notebook, feeling sowhat disappointed but also relieved.
His father shouldn't be seen as a savior at this mont. Howard was not soone he should think of when he was feeling sad and down.
Genius, Stark thought, there can only be one genius Stark in this world, and that is him, Tony Stark.
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