natalia romanova | black widow (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
expatriates) wrote2014-06-21 02:54 pm
expatriates) wrote2014-06-21 02:54 pm
(futurology) ic inbox
username: LATRODECTUS | ✉ ☏ 📷 |
Because I'm the good, the bad, or the ugly?
Why do you have that on your phone?
Why do you have that on your phone?
now you're just fishing for compliments, romanoff
special order.
special order.
The draft's really working out for you, isn't it? You've got the suit, the music collection, Pepper.
listing pepper along with my possessions smells like a woman trap in the making.
this is me, not stepping into it.
this is me, not stepping into it.
I wasn't thinking of them as possessions. I think you're seeing the wrong trap.
trying to guilt me about life not kicking me in the nuts 24/7, i see
This isn't your life. No matter how long we're stuck here.
well it's a better approximation than the one i had
[ so nyah ]
[ so nyah ]
Why, because it's what you want? That doesn't make it sustainable.
i seem to remember very flagrantly not asking for your opinion on the subject
I don't want to see this blow up in your face.
my face. not yours. your concern is duly noted.
[ she'd thought with steve gone that ...
well. it doesn't matter, does it? the dismissal is hard to miss. she's not a stranger to tony stark's ability to push people away when he's making a stupid decision. ]
Well. Some things may change, but you still hate to be told you're wrong.
You know where to find me.
well. it doesn't matter, does it? the dismissal is hard to miss. she's not a stranger to tony stark's ability to push people away when he's making a stupid decision. ]
Well. Some things may change, but you still hate to be told you're wrong.
You know where to find me.
text @red, after the fire, I know you're on hiatus so no rush, but since I missed the log by a lot
gutpunching
2016-11-21 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
[He wasn't kidding when he claimed to keep odd hours. So given that Jason had spent most of their time sharing a living space outside of it, dropping in and out at odd hours or for scant stretches of time, it doesn't necessarily come as a surprise that he wasn't inside when the inn went up in flames. Which means—]
Don't suppose you took out any renter's insurance.
[This is almost definitely a segue to something. But, you know. Hi Nat, how are you doing. Not Blackened Widow levels of crispy, he presumes.]
Don't suppose you took out any renter's insurance.
[This is almost definitely a segue to something. But, you know. Hi Nat, how are you doing. Not Blackened Widow levels of crispy, he presumes.]
clings to this to ease off hiatus into actual new threads ur the best
expatriates
2016-11-22 12:28 am (UTC)(link)
Can you believe they weren't offering it? I think they might be fleecing us.
[ She has to figure there's a purpose here and he'll get to it, but in the meantime, snark is a fair comfort when she'd narrowly escaped the blaze herself. ]
[ She has to figure there's a purpose here and he'll get to it, but in the meantime, snark is a fair comfort when she'd narrowly escaped the blaze herself. ]
I'd file a complaint, but it sounds like the management's gone and skipped town.
[Mrs. Poppy and company vanishing is old—if still loudly unresolved—news, so that's not quite the point, either. This is only partly a social call, if not a check in, per se—he'd mostly assumed she could take care of herself, even if he hadn't seen her since the fire broke out.]
Are you busy?
[Mrs. Poppy and company vanishing is old—if still loudly unresolved—news, so that's not quite the point, either. This is only partly a social call, if not a check in, per se—he'd mostly assumed she could take care of herself, even if he hadn't seen her since the fire broke out.]
Are you busy?
That depends on how interesting the proposition that you're about to make is.
[ At least she's honest. And at least they're both alive. ]
[ At least she's honest. And at least they're both alive. ]
[That's pretty cute, Nat's meta.]
Maybe I'm just looking for the pleasure of your company.
[You don't know. But, after a beat, on the tails of that—]
I could use a second opinion.
[And he's got a working hunch that she might be the best place to get it.]
Maybe I'm just looking for the pleasure of your company.
[You don't know. But, after a beat, on the tails of that—]
I could use a second opinion.
[And he's got a working hunch that she might be the best place to get it.]
I'm flattered.
And just a little curious. I'm guessing I don't get the details until I agree to come out.
And just a little curious. I'm guessing I don't get the details until I agree to come out.
[Now you're getting it!]
I'd hate to bore you with the details, otherwise.
[Gotta give a little to get a little. That's just good business. Besides, it's easier to show than tell.]
Swing by what's left of the saloon if you're feeling curious enough.
[A few weeks of familiarity helps make some guesses, but he can't say he knows her well enough to say if she'll bite. He's not so narrow minded he'll dismiss a resource on principle, but he's also not much for counting on the kindness of near-strangers, either.
Its been just long enough that the embers are out and the town's regrouped, and the arson is still very much a subject of debate—and investigation. And it's where he'll be, if Nat decides to bring this to action. Perched on a fence in eyeshot of the charred building with his hood up against the chill and his gloves on. Ash-streaked, a little, but not in a "narrowly crawled my way out of a(nother) firey death" kind of way. (There's something that looks a little like a red motorcycle helmet sitting on the fencepost next to him—not super necessary at the moment, but it helped with visibility and filtering out the air when the heat was on, and he hasn't abandoned his post long enough to ditch it in a bolthole.)]
I'd hate to bore you with the details, otherwise.
[Gotta give a little to get a little. That's just good business. Besides, it's easier to show than tell.]
Swing by what's left of the saloon if you're feeling curious enough.
[A few weeks of familiarity helps make some guesses, but he can't say he knows her well enough to say if she'll bite. He's not so narrow minded he'll dismiss a resource on principle, but he's also not much for counting on the kindness of near-strangers, either.
Its been just long enough that the embers are out and the town's regrouped, and the arson is still very much a subject of debate—and investigation. And it's where he'll be, if Nat decides to bring this to action. Perched on a fence in eyeshot of the charred building with his hood up against the chill and his gloves on. Ash-streaked, a little, but not in a "narrowly crawled my way out of a(nother) firey death" kind of way. (There's something that looks a little like a red motorcycle helmet sitting on the fencepost next to him—not super necessary at the moment, but it helped with visibility and filtering out the air when the heat was on, and he hasn't abandoned his post long enough to ditch it in a bolthole.)]
[ Whether it's a trap or an offer to collaborate, it's wily, if charmingly upfront about it. It fits her picture of him. Not a manipulator, not really, but aware enough of their circles to be cagey and protective with himself and what he knows. That makes him smart just like it makes him dangerous. She likes both qualities, so she goes.
The inn is a deteriorating shell, sloughing off layers of ash as the wind blows through, and she walks right up to where the door used to be, hands tucked into the pockets of her wool mourning clothes, and she stares down at what it used to be. She has no emotional attachment, but she can imagine what it feels like for the people of the town.
A safe place taken away.
Natasha knows the feeling.
She turns her attention towards Jason, sitting just close enough to see, not close enough for comfortable conversation, and she sizes him up. He's comfortable. She'll make the jaunt. It only takes her a few seconds to bridge the gap, trudging around fallen beams from the front panelling. ]
Lucky it didn't take anything else down with it.
[ Yeah. "Lucky." ]
Or anyone.
The inn is a deteriorating shell, sloughing off layers of ash as the wind blows through, and she walks right up to where the door used to be, hands tucked into the pockets of her wool mourning clothes, and she stares down at what it used to be. She has no emotional attachment, but she can imagine what it feels like for the people of the town.
A safe place taken away.
Natasha knows the feeling.
She turns her attention towards Jason, sitting just close enough to see, not close enough for comfortable conversation, and she sizes him up. He's comfortable. She'll make the jaunt. It only takes her a few seconds to bridge the gap, trudging around fallen beams from the front panelling. ]
Lucky it didn't take anything else down with it.
[ Yeah. "Lucky." ]
Or anyone.
[It's in the air, same as the smell of ash. The low buzz of fear in town borne from the thought of a safe place taken away—or just the backlash from the realization that it was never all that safe in the first place.
He isn't generous enough to put enough stock in her to be disappointed if she doesn't show. But she doesn't keep him waiting very long. Well. What d'you know.]
"Lucky" is a pretty nice way to put it.
[Optimistic. For an arson, the damage is shockingly contained. Maybe the swift action of the crew and the local law enforcement can take the credit for that. Or maybe the threat to life and property was just incidental—arson's always been a classic way of torching the evidence. He's done it himself, once or twice. Either way, luck probably didn't have anything much to do with it. Now that they're both here, gets to cutting to the chase. Hooks his fingers under the edge of his cowl to take it with him as he hops off the fence to get boots back on the dirt. Setting out toward the back of the building, with the expectation that if she's curious enough to show, she's curious enough to follow.]
Spend a whole lot of time around burning buildings?
[In general. Just curious.]
He isn't generous enough to put enough stock in her to be disappointed if she doesn't show. But she doesn't keep him waiting very long. Well. What d'you know.]
"Lucky" is a pretty nice way to put it.
[Optimistic. For an arson, the damage is shockingly contained. Maybe the swift action of the crew and the local law enforcement can take the credit for that. Or maybe the threat to life and property was just incidental—arson's always been a classic way of torching the evidence. He's done it himself, once or twice. Either way, luck probably didn't have anything much to do with it. Now that they're both here, gets to cutting to the chase. Hooks his fingers under the edge of his cowl to take it with him as he hops off the fence to get boots back on the dirt. Setting out toward the back of the building, with the expectation that if she's curious enough to show, she's curious enough to follow.]
Spend a whole lot of time around burning buildings?
[In general. Just curious.]
My therapist keeps telling me to quit, but it's not as easy as it looks.
[ Or, in the common vernacular, "Yes." Natasha doesn't make much easy or straightforward, but she doesn't mince her intentions at least, following him at a comfortable pace with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Like this, she looks like she might as well be strolling a pier for all the emotion she affords the scene. ]
Find something interesting about this one?
[ Or, in the common vernacular, "Yes." Natasha doesn't make much easy or straightforward, but she doesn't mince her intentions at least, following him at a comfortable pace with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Like this, she looks like she might as well be strolling a pier for all the emotion she affords the scene. ]
Find something interesting about this one?
That depends on what you find interesting.
[Though if she's the type to hang around burning buildings against professional advice, maybe the odds are in his favor. They backtrack along the path of the fire toward the backstage areas of the saloon, where the employees came in and out. As they near the back entrance, Jason grabs for a longish piece of slightly-charred debris as they pass. He spins it in hand before gesturing with it—]
Seems to me ignition happened right about here. [Here, he drops into a crouch, far enough away from the charring proper that he can find another trace of the apparent accelerant—an odd, sticky substance on the ground that he rolls the tip of his stick in. He rocks back on his heels and stands, reaching for a pocket and producing a lighter with his free hand, the kind easily found at the local general store.]
Helped along— [Here's the fun part. He holds the stick away from the two of them and kicks a flame up with the lighter and holds it up to the goop on the stick. It sparks to life with dramatic force, burning violently for a handful of seconds before sputtering out into a steady flame.]
By this.
[Nothing commonly found spattered on the ground on a normal day. So, definitely not an accident, as if that were still a possibility they were entertaining. Spinning the stick in hand, he holds it a distance away from the charred remains of the saloon—where it casts light on trace amounts of the same sticky substance in the periphery.]
Look familiar?
[Hard to trace it to back to a source or supplier if you can't identify it. But worth looking into, considering they're not exactly swimming in evidence.]
[Though if she's the type to hang around burning buildings against professional advice, maybe the odds are in his favor. They backtrack along the path of the fire toward the backstage areas of the saloon, where the employees came in and out. As they near the back entrance, Jason grabs for a longish piece of slightly-charred debris as they pass. He spins it in hand before gesturing with it—]
Seems to me ignition happened right about here. [Here, he drops into a crouch, far enough away from the charring proper that he can find another trace of the apparent accelerant—an odd, sticky substance on the ground that he rolls the tip of his stick in. He rocks back on his heels and stands, reaching for a pocket and producing a lighter with his free hand, the kind easily found at the local general store.]
Helped along— [Here's the fun part. He holds the stick away from the two of them and kicks a flame up with the lighter and holds it up to the goop on the stick. It sparks to life with dramatic force, burning violently for a handful of seconds before sputtering out into a steady flame.]
By this.
[Nothing commonly found spattered on the ground on a normal day. So, definitely not an accident, as if that were still a possibility they were entertaining. Spinning the stick in hand, he holds it a distance away from the charred remains of the saloon—where it casts light on trace amounts of the same sticky substance in the periphery.]
Look familiar?
[Hard to trace it to back to a source or supplier if you can't identify it. But worth looking into, considering they're not exactly swimming in evidence.]
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