Owner	Pose
Tony Stark	"Right this way, Agents, please," says the lovely blonde woman in the smart dark blue suit, edged with a spark of red at the neckline. She offers each of them an ID badge that expires later that day, with a shine of metallic surface along the lower edge. Her ID badge identifies her as Lori. "I'm happy to say that your meeting is right on schedule," Lori says. "If you'll follow me." Lori leads the SHIELD agents through the security area in front, and while they are clearly looked at by the security, they go through without any issue, up into the higher levels of Stark Tower. Lori picked an office floor on 7, and up they go. Once there, she leads the way through a foyer area, past expensive, sleek board meeting rooms. They are dimmed, but brighten as the group pass along the hall into the first on the right. "Can I offer any refresh---- AHHH!" Lori suddenly ducks a little drone that goes WINGING past overhead in the office hallway, spinning wildly, blinky lights twirling in confusion. It's about the size of a basketball, with extended landing gear and fluttering repulsors, spinning head over .... landing gear! "SKEEE---EEE---EEE----REEEEEE?!" WHIRR WHIRR.
Phil Coulson	Another day for Age- Commander Phil Coulson. Dressed in suit and tie, with sunglasses for the outside, pulling up in front of the Stark Industries tower for him is like pulling up in front of anywhere else. If he's chuffed, if he's the least bit excited or intimidated, he certainly doesn't let it show. The black sedan that screams 'government agency', complete with license plates that say exactly the same thing, pulls up and parks in the restricted parking section as blocked off by yellow lines. From there, Coulson exits the car, and looks up at the building before him. "Ready, Erickson?" It's a fair question. Upon entering the building, Phil has a small leather binder in his hand, and upon checking in at the desk, nods his answer to the questions posed to him politely...
Phil Coulson	he's a visitor here, and he'd been granted a meeting reasonably quickly.(Helps to know people!) The SHIELD Commander follows dutifully to the elevator, down the corridors, passing the steps with small talk, and is ready to answer to the negative regarding refreshments when the little drone comes careening from seemingly nowhere. Phil moves, flattening himself against the wall, even though his expression doesn't change from the non-plussed. There is very little that truly fazes him, and as it whips by, he turns to look at Erickson. "Welcome to Stark Industries," exits as a deadpan.
Michael Erickson	Grey suit, Wayfarers from before 1980 - these are all simple enough trappings for the man who calls himself Erickson, and certainly he seems an old hand at dressing well and looking vaguely dangerous while he's at it, though less in a 'I'm a government agent' and more of a 'I possibly sold secrets behind the Iron Curtain at some point and nobody knows why they found parts of Ivan in the wood chipper'. "I'm quite ready, sir," he offers to Coulson as the car rolls up, and he emerges dutifully behind his soon-to-be senior agent; all these decades of silent, clandestine service, and he comes along looking like he's come to destabilize Nicaragua with the stroke of a government pen.     Through checkpoints, elevators, corridors. Erickson makes notes as he walks with Coulson, nodding at the other man's 'welcome'. "Quaint, sir," he offers. "Very quaint."     Then there's Lori, more elevators. And a drone aspiring to be a flying guillotine in the best Shaw Brothers tradition. He ducks it easily as it speeds by, reflexes better than human base thanks to his extragalactic origins, but his heavy brows lift faintly behind those vintage shades. "He's coming, then." The big kid at play.
Tony Stark	Coming indeed! "Don't worry, we have a strict 'never harm the humans' rule here, but still, mind your heads if you're a fan of flammable hair-styling gel," Tony's voice carries very well, a quick playful comment. He's pulling on his suit jacket with an easy motion as he turns the corner out of another office area, and waving the agents in towards one of the meeting rooms. "You can head back down, Lori, unless they want anything," Tony says to the assistant. Lori starts to look questioningly at the agents. In the same breath as he spoke to Lori, though, Tony adds to a robot coming along behind him down the hall that's hesitating: "Well? Go on after him. If M-6 ends up in a fireball, at least be sure we have analysis and footage," he instructs it. Tony's there to move to meet and greet both Phil and Michael on their way into the room, though, wearing a bright smile. Casual and easy handshakes are offered; Tony's relaxed and comfortable. He tends to carry a room with that same effortless charisma. "You two are blocked for only a very short meeting. That makes me extra curious. How can I help?"
Phil Coulson	Asimov's first rule of robotics, yes? Phil offers a quick smile, the dry wit hitting his tones, "'A robot may not injure a human being, or cause one to come to harm due to inaction', or something like that?" There's a pause before he adds, "A fan of the classics, Mr Stark?" He shakes his head, his free (prosthetic) hand waving a negative, "Thank you. We won't be long." He doesn't need to turn to make sure his partner is following him as they're ushered into the conference room. "This is Agent Erickson," is given as introduction before he goes into the meat and potatoes of his visit. "Well, Mr Stark," and he does take a look to make sure Lori has departed before he sets the leather-bound file on the table. He knows about the genius' dislike for being handed anything. "We need your help. We have civilian diplomatic employees being targeted by some sort of beamed microwave, or short wave, or something. All we know is that it is causing physical and mental deficits." Gesturing at the file, he adds, "It's all in there. "We need to be able to find it, and eliminate it."
Michael Erickson	"I'm not human."     This from...well. Erickson. He says nothing more, and then pauses. Looks at Coulson. A momentary quirk of a brow suggests interest in the subject, That Which Was Just Laid Before Him As He Has No Clearance Yet.     "Hello, Mister Stark. A pleasure."
Tony Stark	"Well, then maybe duck flying drones around here, just in case," Tony adjusts for Erickson, with only a bit of a grin. "Classics? You should see some of the garage. Remind me later." He's aware Phil has a thing for old cars, but doesn't linger on that point at the moment. "Hi, Agent." That was to Erickson. Nice that they can all be called 'agent', no memory of names really required... "Deficits. Sounds uncomfortable," Tony quips, but crosses to pick up the file. "I feel like a detective with this leatherbound file. Do you have a board with pushpins and red string crisscrossing? --Even if not, tell me yes anyway, I enjoy the mental image," Tony chatterboxes while he looks in through the gift in a rapid, scanning way. But he's quick, he caught the eyebrow move from Erickson. "Hopefully not a deficit you were hit with?" Tony asks. He caught the interest, but misread the reason for it!
Phil Coulson	Once Phil is divested of his file, he's able to stand with hands down at his side. There's a slight twist of his body to look at his partner, brows rising in silent askance. Definitely not something to open with. Even to Stark. Especially to Stark. He's back around, attention on the SHIELD consultant, and he nods, allowing for a hint of a smile. "I would like that." After all, he's got Lola, his candy-apple red 1962 convertible Corvette. Not a soul is allowed to touch it, though he's made exceptions before for Tony. "When this is done." The smile remains on his face as he watches the man pick up the file, "I'm sorry, but basic operations for SHIELD is classified. I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of maps and pushpins." Beat. "But if we did, we would use blue string." He made a joke?! A step back is taken, and glancing again at his partner, there is a half-nod in silent message that it's time to go before, "We've taken up enough time. Mr Stark, if you could look that over. I'll be in contact with you again, and perhaps you'll have something for me." The smile lightens a little, a hint of personal with the professional, "Give my regards to Ms Potts, please. Give her my thanks for the season tickets."
Michael Erickson	"My name is Cal'hatar of Chandilar." He's not an agent yet, he doesn't /quite/ have to follow the rules and keep his mouth shut like a good boy. "Officer, Third Magnitude, Shi'ar Imperial Armed Forces. Former." A beat. "But Agent Erickson will do in the future, sir." Come from a society that conquered the galaxy next door and you'll talk like that sometimes. But Erickson is smiling when he says it, like he knows the man across the table from him. Like they're friends. "And no, sir. I'm just familiar with the energy type, if not this particular effect."     Erickson waves a finger in the direction of file. "Would I be of service in this situation, do you think, Agent Coulson?"
Tony Stark	"Okay," Tony replies simply to the explanation. It isn't sarcastic: Tony's just rolling with it, looking directly at Michael as he gives his name and origin. "Welcome to Earth." Again, it lacks sarcasm, and may well entirely be genuine. Tony's not sweating it for the moment, at any rate. The friendly attitude sits well with Tony, and he doesn't get snarky with Erickson. Phil can rest easy, things are just fine, no ruffled feathers. "Give the kid a copy," Tony recommends to Phil, upbeat. 'Kid' isn't meant in a derogatory way, only in that he's judged Phil the senior agent of the two. A wink is flashed at Erickson anyway. "I'm always a fan of delegating wherever possible." So if Erickson has something of value, add it in! "Otherwise, I'll send over what I turn up direct to your servers. Unless you prefer delivery via treasure map. I just might oblige," Tony smiles, approaching to offer farewell handshakes.
Phil Coulson	Phil turns back to his partner, his expression not giving anything away. He, too, is rolling with it, as it were. "It's classified, so, we'll see." Doesn't that sound like a father's 'we'll see' at a child's request? Probably. No sense giving away the keys to the kingdom when more experienced agents won't ever see those pages put in front of Stark, like, ever. "We'll talk about it." Getting closer to 'sure', but not quite there yet. Phil leans to offer his hand in return, and once held, gives a quick shake before retrieving his hand shortly thereafter. "If you'd like, I'll send Agent Erickson over to go over what he may have to add to the investigation." Still, he nods to his partner as the signal to depart, "Thank you, Mr Stark. I think sending them to the servers will be fine. Or, if you'd like to do a powerpoint presentation. I'm sure I could free up a whiteboard." With that, Coulson is ready to be escorted out to the front. He's got more work to do!
Michael Erickson	"Of course." Michael echoes Tony's handshake, though he takes Stark's arm at the wrist - shades of certain hammer-slinging fellows, perhaps. A solid shake and he releases the man. Still smiling. "I shall look forward to assisting where I can. Good evening." And then he's ready to follow Coulson out, yet still wearing that expression of amusement - either he's really friendly, possibly in love (Tony does have that effect on people), /really/ high, or knows something funny that nobody else in that room does. Whatever it is, however, he's not sharing. He's just going to follow Coulson back out into the sedan and into the evening. No upsetting the stability of Latin America tonight!