“I don’t want to do this,” Natasha said, her voice flat.  Her hand at her side, she flexed her fingers, curling them into a fist.  “Contrary to popular opinion, I do not enjoy beating the shit out of my allies.  Or manipulating them.  Or making speeches.”

She was growing more irritated with herself, this shouldn’t be an issue.  (She shouldn’t still be talking.)  (Explaining.)  (Excusing.)  Just hit the man.  For god’s sake, he asked you to do it.  Quit stalling.

“I’m sorry.”

QUIT STALLING.  The voice in her head shouting, the accent growing thicker.  It dropped suddenly, cold and quiet.  Hit him, Natalia.

But not because you command me.  I choose.  I choose necessity.