#inarms

three's company

GENERAL ROSS FILES  : RE , J. HAMMER , JR .            evidence surfaced via classified intelligence of thunderbolts member justin hammer questionable friendship with avenger ID : BRUCE BANNER . hammer has not been approached regarding this new information but it has been filed away for future use , if necessary .     ft. @inarms .

「 me: yay! nat:

SHE IS mid-sentence when he does it.

Right in the middle of telling him-- for the FOURTH fucking time --that no, he cannot just bribe the guards with concert tickets and yes, his face is still on three active watchlists. Her words are sharp, staccato, slicing through the space between them like they’ve done since the moment they met.

"And if you go against protocol like that again I will--" He kisses her.Quick. Brash. A full body interrupt.

It’s not elegant. It’s not slow. It’s not anything resembling romantic. It’s all nerves and ego and that desperate way Justin Hammer always jumps before looking, always acts before thinking.

For a split second, the world stills.

Her breath hitches. Her fist clenches. Her blood flares hot with adrenaline and disbelief and a flicker -- just a flicker-- of something else.

Then she slaps him.

Open palm, sharp across his cheek. The sound cracks through the alley like a gunshot.

Her brow furrows, even appearing like a kicked kitten there's a knowledge she could break his neck right then and there, instead, she takes in a deep breath, swallows and proceeds with:

Yelena doesn’t flinch when the lock disengages. She should be alone --the safehouse had been cleared twice, alarms silent, comms quiet. She even disabled the elevator. So when the door creaks open and Justin Hammer steps through like this is some hotel suite he paid for, she doesn’t reach for her gun.

Not yet.

She reaches for her patience instead. Which is significantly more dangerous. "You are not supposed to be here." She states rather coolly, almost tired. She doesn't move from her seat at the small table, maps still spread out. her knife is still half-cleaned, and the burner phone, buzzing beside her, goes ignored.

He mutters something about intel -- and that makes her pause.

Because Justin Hammer is many things: reckless, ridiculous, a former arms dealer with a god complex and bad taste in loafers -- but he's not stupid...not entirely. He doesn't put himself in her line of sight without reason. Not unless he's more afraid of something else. Her eyes narrow.