[She had been young and scrawny when he had first laid eyes on her, the kind of kid that was shipped off to an orphanage or boarding school because it was easier than dealing with her. She had no parents that he knew of, no person to mind her aside from an aide to make certain she didn't get into trouble on the plane. Otherwise, she was like a package arriving to the United States for delivery and half of the packing label had managed to come loose. Like no one had wanted her, but they were still obligated to see her into relatively responsible hands.
He wasn't surprised that Natasha hadn't known what to do with her, though he was curious how old Ava had been when they had actually met. Maybe there had been some weird sentimental reminiscence? Romanoff wasn't all ice cold; she played it best off the cuff. No one entirely knew when she was acting or emoting.]
She seemed more like that distant aunt that came to town once in a while with chocolate but otherwise, wanted only adult conversations. [But what did he really know about that. He had as much of an act to play as she did.] Your birthday, huh? [He pretended like he was thinking rather hard on the subject, chewing a little on his chocolate bar.] You were a May baby, I seem to recall. May 21st, wasn't it?
[It was easier to play the part of soldier when he needed to, let many of the other people talk themselves into holes that he could talk them deeper into. He had a good memory, and he hadn't made Command of STRIKE because of his rugged good looks. But of course she was going to sass him still, as he deserved and as she needed to do.]
If you weren't so damn tiny, I'd offer to bench press you, but you're hardly even close to my warm up weight category.
[He raised his eyebrows at her easy admittance, though there was an opening that he wasn't about to miss either.] Well, I can tell you that everything for everyone seems to develop and go to hell in a hand basket at seventeen. [Those dastardly aging out of government programs; the unwanted pregnancies; the graduation and failing to get into college; the STDs that were too embarrassing to explain to the principal. Ah seventeen, where all the horror show of life actually started.]
Wait, you were psychically linked to Romanoff? Now you have to give me all the goss on her. Does she actually hang her clothes from a spider web? I had a bet with Rollins. [He had no such thing, but it was a good story. He imagined that being mentally linked with one of the most successful Soviet spies came with its own special brand of confusion and kick-ass whatever.]
no subject
He wasn't surprised that Natasha hadn't known what to do with her, though he was curious how old Ava had been when they had actually met. Maybe there had been some weird sentimental reminiscence? Romanoff wasn't all ice cold; she played it best off the cuff. No one entirely knew when she was acting or emoting.]
She seemed more like that distant aunt that came to town once in a while with chocolate but otherwise, wanted only adult conversations. [But what did he really know about that. He had as much of an act to play as she did.] Your birthday, huh? [He pretended like he was thinking rather hard on the subject, chewing a little on his chocolate bar.] You were a May baby, I seem to recall. May 21st, wasn't it?
[It was easier to play the part of soldier when he needed to, let many of the other people talk themselves into holes that he could talk them deeper into. He had a good memory, and he hadn't made Command of STRIKE because of his rugged good looks. But of course she was going to sass him still, as he deserved and as she needed to do.]
If you weren't so damn tiny, I'd offer to bench press you, but you're hardly even close to my warm up weight category.
[He raised his eyebrows at her easy admittance, though there was an opening that he wasn't about to miss either.] Well, I can tell you that everything for everyone seems to develop and go to hell in a hand basket at seventeen. [Those dastardly aging out of government programs; the unwanted pregnancies; the graduation and failing to get into college; the STDs that were too embarrassing to explain to the principal. Ah seventeen, where all the horror show of life actually started.]
Wait, you were psychically linked to Romanoff? Now you have to give me all the goss on her. Does she actually hang her clothes from a spider web? I had a bet with Rollins. [He had no such thing, but it was a good story. He imagined that being mentally linked with one of the most successful Soviet spies came with its own special brand of confusion and kick-ass whatever.]