"Mr. Howlett, what do you mean?"
In the empty conference room atop the Empire State Building, Howard Stark's mind went completely blank. He had no idea what James was getting at.
His cheeks twitched, and in the end, he sat frozen in his chair without making another sound.
Old Stark was a traditional scientist through and through. Aside from the carefree, uninhibited—even somewhat rakish—temperament of his youth, pride was carved deep into his bones.
Though his son Tony deeply resented his father's authoritarian ways and arrogance, he failed to realize that he was actually the most like him.
These days, mysticism and all manner of myth and legend from around the world had drawn the attention of more and more scientific professionals. People's faith in a purely rigorous scientific outlook had been shaken to some extent, or perhaps they were simply searching for new perspectives.
But Mr. Stark still clung stubbornly to his old-school path of scientific research.
Hiss, hiss, hiss.
Dense sparks burned into a round glow, crackling as wisps of smoke burned away.
James sat against an ancient stone table, pinching a cigar between three fingers as he took a deep drag. He stared absently at Stark for a long while, unaware of how much pressure his silence was placing on the other man.
Gulp.
"—You can borrow the Tesseract."
As Mr. Stark's Adam's apple bobbed deeply, James suddenly seemed to snap back to himself and spoke decisively.
He rose and returned to the high-backed chair at the head of the table, tapping ash from his cigar with his fingertips. His earlier question about how the god-king Odin viewed the Tesseract had seemed more like a question he was asking himself. Whether Howard Stark could truly provide an answer did not appear to matter much to him.
James