Long shot. Interior. An exclusive Manhattan bar. Tony Stark sits alone drinking Ginger Ale. He's lost in a million thoughts. Off camera, a woman approaches... (Her shadow falls over Tony?)
Woman: Excuse me...?
Tony turns to face the woman. A gorgeous brunette in a dress to die for. Vamp-central. Femme-extra-fatale.
Woman: Tony Stark?
Close on Tony, smiling at the woman, raising an eyebrow Roger Moor-style... while his thoughts go into overdrive.
Tony (thinking - small letters jumbled together to represent Tony's superfast thought processes - certain words stand out in larger font): THREAT analysis? Unknown assailant. No visible weaponry. Does NOT appear HOSTILE. Then again, neither did WHITNEY FROST or KATHLEEN DARE... or WANDA. (BTW, must remember to get that waitress's phone number.) Projecting 4... no, 5 hand-to-hand combat scenarios even if she's Taskmaster-trained, can also be suited up in under 2.7 SECONDS if required.
Tony's on charm offensive. The woman vamps and asks for his autograph. Tony reaches inside his jacket pocket.
Woman: Mr. Stark, I'm a huge fan. I wonder if I could have your autograph...
Tony: Tony, please. And of course. I always keep a few spare--
He produces a signed photo from his pocket and offers it to the woman with a grin. A smarmy corporate mugshot, already signed.
The woman smiles back politely, then starts to unbutton her blouse. Tony is shocked (in an amused way). He takes his pen and moves in to sign her boob.
Woman: Oh, but I'm sure there are millions of 8x10 glossies out there with your signature on, Tony... I was thinking of something a little more personal...
Tony: Well, when you put it like that...
Suddenly, the Iron Man armour forms itself around Tony, preventing him from signing the breast. As the mask is the last thing to move into place, we can still see his surprised expression. The woman steps backwards, surprised also.
Tony (more crammed, superfast thinking): Suit's remote CHEMICAL ANALYSIS reveals combination of ink on skin would lead to organic synthesis 2(CH3)3SiCN + H2O → (CH3)3SiOSi(CH3)3 + 2 HCN Product - HYDROGEN CYANIDE. Headache, nausea, vomiting, convulsions, loss of consciousness (pity, she's CUTE - sigh, the insane ones always are), respiratory failure, DEATH.
The woman freezes, knowing the game's up. Iron Man trains his repulsor on her like a gun.
Iron Man: I'm sorry, ma'am. Hammer, Stane, Osborn... Tell whoever you're working for - nice try.
Iron Man: Hazmat units are on their way, estimated response time 1 minute 13; satellites are tracking your position from 47 different angles... Can I trust you to wait here while they arrive?
Exterior. Tony jets away from the bar (it's called Layton's), leaving the dazed woman standing in the doorway as police cars screech to a halt in the street outside.
SFX: (Sirens) Whoooeeeeeoooooowwwwww!
Tony: Sorry I can't stick around for the fight scene, but I've a board meeting in five, the Avengers need me in the Negative Zone at 6, then I'm on Letterman later, if I get back in time.
Tony: You have a nice day now.
Tony (thinking): Sigh. They always go for my WEAKNESSES...