[And he did know. Her life was all lessons, isolation, and being kept out of sight for as long as possible. She soaked up knowledge well, performed skills with a keenness of youth, but she never was allowed to associate with those her own age from what he saw. STRIKE were her teachers and likely supposed to be her exposure of emotional, mental and social development, and he knew for a fact that none of them were at peak performance for any of those areas. They were all rather dysfunctional in their own way.
Of course, it couldn't have been worse than the stories that came from the Red Room. Hell, he looked back on the Asset and he saw how the years of forced behaviour and mental modification played its part. Ava had been someone who he had put effort into when he likely shouldn't have. She had been scrawny when he picked her up off the plane, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes but he saw this skinny little red-headed creature delivered into his care as a rising star of STRIKE and HYDRA. She reminded him a little of himself, all rough and abused.
He had gone against orders, cancelled his plans and instead taken her to a baseball game. He had bought her a ballcap, an overpriced hotdog and a sodapop. He had explained the rules of the game, slid his arm across the back of her chair like she was his daughter and no one dared question him on that fact. No one found out either.
So, maybe, just maybe, it pleased him on some level that she had found herself a friend after so much isolation. What was he to say to that? Nothing. He had long grown out of ass patting something so obvious, hardened by years of service but still willing to listen to her tale. And the recruits... they weren't likely to survive when HYDRA went all out, and that was a necessary evil that they all had to swallow. That she had associations with Natasha didn't entire surprise him, though she never seemed particularly interested most of the times.]
What's your association with Romanoff, aside from where you both were originally trained? Does the Red Room only graduate actual red-heads? [He knew that wasn't true, but there were interesting similarities anyway.] There was a tracker in it too, as I'm sure you know. GPS and all that jazz. Hi-tech stuff. You kept it on you, they knew where you were.
[And how the tables turned when she dug around and pulled out a candy bar. They weren't really his thing; he preferred hard candy that he could suck until they faded to nothing. Chocolate always seemed too messy and quickly. He still took what she offered as it was a strange change of roles.] How am I supposed to keep my trim figure if you're giving me candy?
[He kept clear of the Orbitors when he could. He didn't trust anyone that could keep a station full of frozen people like they were gods.] You need to learn to control them better then.
no subject
[And he did know. Her life was all lessons, isolation, and being kept out of sight for as long as possible. She soaked up knowledge well, performed skills with a keenness of youth, but she never was allowed to associate with those her own age from what he saw. STRIKE were her teachers and likely supposed to be her exposure of emotional, mental and social development, and he knew for a fact that none of them were at peak performance for any of those areas. They were all rather dysfunctional in their own way.
Of course, it couldn't have been worse than the stories that came from the Red Room. Hell, he looked back on the Asset and he saw how the years of forced behaviour and mental modification played its part. Ava had been someone who he had put effort into when he likely shouldn't have. She had been scrawny when he picked her up off the plane, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes but he saw this skinny little red-headed creature delivered into his care as a rising star of STRIKE and HYDRA. She reminded him a little of himself, all rough and abused.
He had gone against orders, cancelled his plans and instead taken her to a baseball game. He had bought her a ballcap, an overpriced hotdog and a sodapop. He had explained the rules of the game, slid his arm across the back of her chair like she was his daughter and no one dared question him on that fact. No one found out either.
So, maybe, just maybe, it pleased him on some level that she had found herself a friend after so much isolation. What was he to say to that? Nothing. He had long grown out of ass patting something so obvious, hardened by years of service but still willing to listen to her tale. And the recruits... they weren't likely to survive when HYDRA went all out, and that was a necessary evil that they all had to swallow. That she had associations with Natasha didn't entire surprise him, though she never seemed particularly interested most of the times.]
What's your association with Romanoff, aside from where you both were originally trained? Does the Red Room only graduate actual red-heads? [He knew that wasn't true, but there were interesting similarities anyway.] There was a tracker in it too, as I'm sure you know. GPS and all that jazz. Hi-tech stuff. You kept it on you, they knew where you were.
[And how the tables turned when she dug around and pulled out a candy bar. They weren't really his thing; he preferred hard candy that he could suck until they faded to nothing. Chocolate always seemed too messy and quickly. He still took what she offered as it was a strange change of roles.] How am I supposed to keep my trim figure if you're giving me candy?
[He kept clear of the Orbitors when he could. He didn't trust anyone that could keep a station full of frozen people like they were gods.] You need to learn to control them better then.