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"Paige, could you please die somewhere else? You’re getting blood all over the couch again, and it took far too long to clean it up last time," the tone was bored with a slight hint of annoyance.
Paige looked up slightly, mouth open, at the man sitting on the other end of the couch she was currently pinned to. Flipping through a book, Tony paid no attention to her as she stared at him incredulously.
"You. If you. You," she started, stumbling over her words, "were the one who pinned me here with this bloody thing," gesturing to the sword protruding from her stomach, "so if you’d like to complain about bloodstains you have only yourself to blame."
"If you hadn’t run and had just let me-"
"Who in their right mind doesn’t run from someone with a sword?"
"If you had let me pin you to the floorboards like I’d originally planned, this wouldn’t be a problem. Also I don’t think I have to remind you, dear, that you aren’t right in the mind," Tony stated simply, not even bothering to glance over.
Her mouth opened wider, “are you aware of how much of your blood I’ve cleaned up?” The look on her face could have been enough to kill had he been paying her any more than the slightest bit of attention.
"A little more than I have of yours, I’m sure, but that is entirely due to the fact that you’re really quite careless-"
"Creative."
"-in the ways and places you choose to kill me, and that is hardly my fault," he finished. Taking a sip of his coffee and flipping the page, he listened to Paige continue on, taking pleasure in the fact that she was beyond irritated with him.
"It’s hardly my fault that you couldn’t wait for me to get up to kill me fairly, instead of cornering me. And to be completely honest, if I were you I’d be more concerned about the gash you’ve put in the cushion I’m currently lying on than any blood I’m spilling. This mess is really entirely your fault."
"I forgot you also happen to be fairly clumsy. Now, if you’d please at least move to the floor. Mopping is so much easier than scrubbing," a small glance her way and that smirk she knew too well on his face were the last straws that day.
Closing her mouth and giving the man one last frustrated huff, Paige grabbed the blade with both hands, turned to stare Tony straight in the eye and then she pulled. Bringing it back down, the blade that was once right through her stomach was now through her chest. Annoyance flashed across his face as fresh streams of blood spilled onto the pale fabric of the couch. Wincing slightly, with blood trickling from her mouth, Paige looked at the man with a small smile.
"Have fun cleaning, dear.”