Somehow, the kid had turned a mock-up into something interesting.
Lemu stopped, too.
Why so quiet?
He turned around—only to flinch at Stark's face, which was suddenly way too close for comfort. Lemu instinctively took a step back.
"What's your deal?"
Stark's lips curved into a grin. Not his usual smirk, nor the kind of fake smile reserved for interviews—but a genuine look of interest.
"Not bad. Integrated, open-frame design… but have you thought about how you're going to build this?"
The comment hit Lemu like a Petrificus Totalus spell, freezing him on the spot.
"Wait—what? You're telling me your lab can't make this?!"
His masterpiece, a marvel of mechanical ingenuity, was going to be impossible to build?
"Of course not." Stark shrugged, like it was obvious.
"High-strength materials require precision machining. And assembling something this intricate calls for more advanced tools than the dinosaurs I've got here."
Lemu's expression fell.
But Stark wasn't done.
"That said, it's not impossible. Since the weapons division shut down, some top-tier equipment is about to free up. We'll need modifications—and a few new purchases—but there's nothing money can't solve."
His fingers traced the chest plate design on the hologram.
"And this section—micro-folding patterns? Too fragile. It won't survive direct impact. If you switch to detachable armor plates, you'll get better durability and faster replacements during repairs."
Lemu paused, then gave a thoughtful nod.
Okay… that actually makes sense.
Hours Later—Dinner Time.
Pepper Potts waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.
The takeout dinner she'd ordered was practically ice-cold, but Stark and Lemu were nowhere to be seen. Calls went unanswered.
Finally, she asked J.A.R.V.I.S. where they were.
"In the basement, Miss Potts. They've been there all afternoon."
What?!
Pepper's heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she marched down to the basement.
Through the glass door, she could already hear the two of them arguing—voices animated, energy high.
"…the structural load isn't distributed evenly!"
"Because your force sensor placement is all wrong! Look—here, center the alignment—"
"…But that throws off the motion response in high-speed rotations!"
Pepper's eyes glazed over.
As a liberal arts major, the technical jargon was completely lost on her.
But one question burned in her mind—how were they even talking to each other?
Wasn't Lemu supposed to be a hunter from the mountains?
She narrowed her eyes at the mystery child.
There was definitely more to him than met the eye.
Pepper knocked on the glass door, her voice cutting through the heated discussion inside.
"Hey, engineers, are you planning to have dinner and midnight snacks together? It's already 9:45 p.m."
Lemu and Stark exchanged startled glances.
That late already? But there was still one technical hurdle they hadn't cracked yet.
Stark pointed toward the sofa and small table tucked in the corner of the workshop.
"Dinner first?"
Then he turned to Pepper.
"Pepper, could you bring the food down here? We'll just eat here and keep working."
Lemu nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we'll eat here."
Pepper raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by their tunnel vision.
"Sure, you two workaholics." She rolled her eyes but turned and headed upstairs, heels clicking against the steps.
Hopeless. Both of them.
A brief ceasefire was declared, and the two design-obsessed engineers finally paused their work.
Dinner was lobster meat with a side of vegetable and fruit salad. Pepper even reheated the lobster, ensuring it was warm and flavorful.
The food tasted great, but Lemu couldn't help feeling something was… missing.
Meat and vegetables without rice? Where's the soul?
No matter how luxurious the meal, something about eating without rice felt inherently wrong. It was a habit buried too deep to change overnight.
With the blueprints momentarily forgotten, Stark suddenly remembered—this little alien had broken into his basement and messed with his designs.
His fork paused mid-air as he turned toward Lemu, narrowing his eyes.
"Didn't I tell you to stay out of my basement? Who gave you the password? Was it Pepper?"
Lemu shook his head.
Pepper's been good to me. I'm not throwing her under the bus.
And there was no way he'd admit to hacking J.A.R.V.I.S. and making the AI spill the code. Stark would flip the table.
"I didn't ask her," Lemu said with practiced nonchalance. "It's a six-digit code. Anyone could crack it. What—don't tell me you couldn't?"
Stark snorted, leaning back in his chair with the smugness of someone who lived and breathed technology.
"Don't insult me. Cracking something that basic? Child's play."
The conversation shifted as Stark polished off his food, leaning back and lazily picking at his teeth with a toothpick.
He glanced at Lemu.
"You—where'd you learn all that engineering?"
"Self-taught. Earth has the internet. So do we."
Stark raised an eyebrow.
"Your species—are all of you tech-savvy?"
"Depends on talent."
But Stark wasn't done.
"How do you even adapt to Earth's gravity and atmosphere? Is it the same as your home planet?"
Lemu's fork paused.
Let me eat, damn it!
Stark's quick eating speed wasn't the issue—the problem was that bullshitting took brainpower. Precious, non-renewable brainpower.
Lemu rolled his eyes and tossed out the first excuse he could think of.
"Secret techniques from my homeland."
Stark didn't let up.
"Your strength—definitely above human levels. Is it because your planet has higher gravity?"
"Nope. Secret techniques."
"What about your powers? Genetic or technological augmentation?"
"Se—"
"Secret techniques?"
Lemu shot him a glare of pure judgment.
"Yes! And since you clearly already know the answer, why are you still asking?!"
Stark fell silent.
"….."
….
While Lemu and Stark were busy crafting Iron Man suits, a certain long-named intelligence agency continued its investigation into their activities.
In the quiet corner of a café, Agent Phil Coulson, a twenty-year veteran in the field, adjusted his tie as he whispered into a secure line.
A half-empty cup of espresso sat in front of him. Just looking at it made his mouth dry and bitter.
"Boss, we've observed that the blue-haired teenager seems to have developed an unusually close relationship with Tony Stark. He's now living in Stark's Malibu beachside mansion.
"Pepper Potts's shopping records show they recently purchased a mattress, and reports indicate they're processing a green card for him through immigration services."
Here is a new chapter. Now let the power stones roll…