She'd always been more Power Ranger then princess as a child, which is why she was going to be totally cool with meeting The Prince at a fricken Starbucks.

If everyone wanted to be totally honest with everything, she had no idea why she'd given him her phone number. It certainly wasn't because she expected him to actually call it. He hadn't bothered in all the time since he'd been Mr. Super Hero Saving The World. And let's not forget she had only been an intern. And inadequate, at best, even for that. Clueless political science major trying to get credit doing things she had no idea about because it was the only damn thing she could find. And that had been two years ago. Two years. And the only thing she'd managed in all that time was a shoebox of an apartment and a barely full time retail job.

Meanwhile, he was a prince. And a god. And now a superhero. And a god. And probably went to supermodel parties cause he knew Tony Freaking Stark. And why the hell would he actually call? The man was Batman with magic and a sense of humor in the body of a Disney prince. And he was literally a god. With the worshiping and mythology and everything.

Why did he call?

Why?

WHY?

Darcy drowned the screaming in her head with way-too-hot-to-drown-mental-panic-in vanilla-cinnamon latte. It was bad enough that she'd charged him like a fangirl. In front of people she knew. But then he hadn't just ignored her.

And, ok, maybe he was really nice and laughed at some of her jokes when they'd met the first time. But she wasn't deluded enough to think he'd actually seen that as anything more than an amusement. Maybe he'd promised to pay her back for the whole exploding soda prank thing, but. Two. Years.
Someone slid into the empty seat at her little tiny table and he looked entirely different. He didn't do mortal clothes. Or hadn't. Damn.

"Darcy."

"Hi." Why did you call? Why? The awkward silence fell. And he was wearing a fancy dress shirt instead of that leather get-up of sexy thought inducing or the gold and gazelle helmet. Ok. Disney prince, business man edition. "So… hi. Nobody's been hit with a car yet this time. That's a plus."

His lips twitched into a smirk. "It is a refreshing change."

"Do you want a coffee?" When he hesitated, she jumped up and rushed to order one anyways. He seemed like maybe a mocha kind of guy, right? No. Not quite that sweet. She returned with her best guess to find the smirk was a lot wider than when she left.

"I don't bite, Darcy."

She slid the drink across the table. "I know."

"Unless you ask." She would have done a spit take if she hadn't choked. But he was studying the cup as if he'd said nothing odd at all. "I trust this will not explode?"

"No it's," she paused to cough, "carbonation free." She couldn't tell from his expression if he liked it or not. "So. Thanks. For the other week."

"You would be far less amusing if that rock had hit you."

"Probably. It was bigger than a car, so yeah. Being a pancake doesn't sound like fun."

"I imagine life as any breakfast food would be dull." His eyebrows quirked a bit when she laughed, and he leaned forward. "Tell me, Darcy. Are you still interested in politics? I remember you were not unskilled at spinning stories to your own advantage."

Did the god of lies just say she was a good liar? Was that a good thing? "I guess."

He pulled a folder of papers from – where had he been keeping them? – and slid them almost into her lap. "I believe I have an offer of employment you will find interesting."