THEY HAVE SO MANY NAMES FOR YOU.

NO COMMENT.

❝ APEROL SPRITZ. ❞

Truthfully, all of these terribly clandestine sidewalk cafe meetings have begun to run together.  At least THIS ONE was of her own design.  ( Steve’s subpar spycraft may very well be CONTAGIOUS, who knows. )  Manicured fingernails play along stemware’s base, a dip of a brow pointing toward the OPEN SEAT across.  ❝ --- --- Or whatever else you might be in the mood for. ❞

MIGHT AS WELL ESTABLISH A BASELINE.  She does have a heart about these things.

❝ I’m glad you came. ❞

“Maybe GOOD was asking too much.” When was the last time they had been given good news? ( And even then, it seemed determined to come on the ends of bad, bad news. ) It wasn’t that bad news was the way of the world — Steve refused to believe that — but it sure was the way of their work. “I’ll settle for whatever you’ve got.” 

❝ WELL, HOPE SPRINGS ETERNAL. ❞  A blessing, perhaps.  OR A CURSE.

The briefest glance toward him is redirected just as quickly, ATTENTION DIVIDED as a material means of providing the conversation with the sort of mundanity that allows them to remain undisturbed.  ( Even the most isolationist of New Yorkers has a NOSY STREAK, if the situation seems ripe for it. )

[ TXT ; ROMANOVA ] Wish I could say it was above my paygrade. [ TXT ; ROMANOVA ] Maybe I should take him to dinner. Want to be my plus one?

*   bolded apply    /    italics are conditional or sometimes.  ( REPOST, don’t reblog !! )

❝ --- --- Not always forward. ❞  Cup of tea abandoned, Natasha tips backward in her seat enough to accommodate the incoming feline projectile ––––––– Liho is still investigating the world outside his carrier halfway across the room, but she knows.  ❝ Sometimes, staying just as you are despite being pulled in EVERY OTHER DIRECTION requires just as much strength.  If not more. ❞

LIKE CLOCKWORK.  Ah.  She pauses to scratch along the length of the black cat’s spine.  ❝  You are a good example. ❞

WELL THAT’S GONNA STING, WIDOW.   he follows her impromptu exit strategy,  leaping after with arm extended.

hand presses red tresses to chest,  doing his best to ensure that  (  at the very least  )  her head is protected on impact. an instinctive reaction given their fast approaching TENSION BREAKING technique. get it. ‘cause … water  —  ❝  you’re insane, you know that !  ❞ 

SHE CURLS INTO COMPACT WITH THE EASE OF OBVIOUS PRACTICE, knees - to - chest as the whole of her weight pulls INWARD to fit hidden against his body.  SORRY, ARTHUR, but you drew the short --- --- rather, MUCH, MUCH TALLER --- --- straw ! 

❝ SO I’VE BEEN TOLD. ❞  The afternoon sun is blinding in reflection, the river’s surface glass - smooth as it speeds, lead footed, up to meet them.  Natasha reaches around him with a heartbeat to spare.  Five, four, three –––––––

[ TXT ; ROMANOVA ] Funny. I haven’t. Feels like it’d be front page news though, don’t you think? [ TXT ; ROMANOVA ] But now I’ve gotta ask… what made you think so?

*   bolded are genuine fears    /    italics are discomforts.  ( REPOST, don’t reblog !! )

There was something about A DAY LIKE THIS — kids runnin’ about with some kind of big-eyed wonder, sun shining all bright and pretty and just for them, the whole damn city taking a big breath of relief. Some days ( most days ) he forgot to appreciate it all. Maybe that was why he’d chosen the spot, or maybe it was because it provided them a nice cover — some combination of genuine appreciation and work. 

And what could he say? He appreciated IRONY, and the Captain America statue surely provided that. 

“Would you believe I got LOST?” he answered, grabbing a handful of crumbs and tossing them to the sidewalk. They’d find themselves at the center of a mob of pigeons if they weren’t careful. “Glad you could make it. You seem to be just as busy.” 

“Like a damn MERRY-GO-ROUND.” Around and around and around… And it was something he had admitted to many, but this was Natasha. Even now, especially now, he trusted her. “I just keep checkin’ the same sources, chasing the same leads, and for some reason, I expect different results. Tell me you’ve got good news.” 

❝ NO, I WOULDN’T. ❞  For all of her critique about Steve’s ability to hide ( or lack thereof ), Natasha’s never stopped wishing that HE DIDN’T HAVE TO.  She can still feel the ripples fluttering outward from the original AVENGERS’ bombastic separation somewhere at the apex of her throat, that downswing of nauseous altitude every single time she’s forced to PLAY THIS GAME.

( That doesn’t mean she isn’t good at it.  But EXPERTISE has its own price. )

❝ UH ... NO, MARRY IS OPTION TWO. ❞ jests made in poor taste, so typically on brand with miss ninety - five percent legs here. 

rarely are they given opportunities to BE at the same time. one busy shaking off the consequences of an era that breathed glamour into forced espionage ( a truly dark, fucked up and continuous part of history ) ——- and jess. well.

rest in peace birkenstock’s. any of her three options would have left them for dead, anyways. ❝ alright, okay. playing it a little safe, but your tastes are tempered for the exquisite.

it’s a tie between sandals and needs - a - laundry - mat for me. i never understood the whole tacky mirror ceiling appeal until catching a glimpse of myself in that ketchup stain. ❞ hand flourishes through steam, forced shiver and ‘ mm mm ’ sound highlighting everything wrong with this particular GAME. ❝ actually, rewind. since when would you pick sandals over glasses ? ❞

❝ GLASSES ARE NECESSARY.  SANDALS ARE NOT. ❞  Spoken with a sort of Oscar - worthy authority that’d be easily recognizable to anyone who’s spent any time reviewing Agent Romanova’s press reels, lately.  ❝ Plus, glasses means time WITHOUT GLASSES.  Easier to slip things right by. ❞