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[expatriates]

username: LATRODECTUS

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AUDIO. UN: LOKI

[selfimage]

[ hello, surprise. guess who it is? ]

So, what do you go by? Is it Natasha, or do you want to go with the whole widow spider thing?

[expatriates]

Natasha. Black Widow. It's all the same. [ She's not the secret identity type anymore. ] I didn't realize we reached the level of friendly, meandering phone calls. [ Clearly she took a wrong turn in her life. ]

[selfimage]

[ that's what you get for feeding him. ]

I try to stay at least somewhat tactful. There's some kind of Midgardian phrase that contains the words "bees" and "honey" that comes to mind, but if you want honesty, I'd rather not fall into the loud, intimidation trap so many of the other Lokis seem to step headlong into.

Which, I suppose, brings us to the point that you've implied.

[ he could have done this a lot of ways: he could have coerced it out of Tony or Steve (or someone else for that matter), asked around to get the answer he wanted, but he didn't. instead, he contacted her outright. ]

Cap and Iron Man—that thick tension that I could cut with a knife, I'm certain I didn't imagine it. What happened between them?

[expatriates]

You want me to funnel you information about my teammates?

[ Said to the tune of "really?" ]

What a reputation the Black Widow must have in your universe.

[ To be fair, it stung a little more in the wake of recent events. He wouldn't be the only one thinking that Black Widow was a turncoat, untrustworthy, serving her own ends. And truth be told, the details he asked for were mostly harmless—it was her own fear of being perceived in such a way, and moreso her fear that such a perception might be right, that kept her mum for the time being. ]

[selfimage]

Yes, absolutely. You seem the only reasonable one at the moment.

[ that doesn't seem to put him off at all. ]

I certainly could go around and find it for myself, but this way you know what I know, and there's a possibility that I can fill in the blanks for you from my world. If I thought that either of them would listen to me I would've sent out a meeting invite.

[ there's a pause, and then a huff of a sigh. ]

Unfortunately, not all Lokis hasn't sunk in. Besides, if I wanted to play you against each other, I would've done it by now. No one needs to drop the deets to take advantage of a situation.

[expatriates]

[ The facts, though depressing, were simple.

The Avengers as they had existed were no longer a team. Loki's efforts to play the new heroes off each other on the helicarrier would have meant nothing in this climate because they didn't need additional interference. Natasha was on the run—a fugitive, not an Avenger, even if such an organization did still exist on paper.

There was nothing that Loki could do with manipulation that could damage them beyond the disrepair they already faced. Accepting that fact was easier said than done, however. Luckily for Loki, Tony had already drilled it into Natasha's head, and all it took was a reminder. ]

History is a funny thing. When you're in it, you're never quite sure which parts people will remember. [ She thought of Bucky Barnes. Tony's parents. Those pieces, she was sure, would never make it to a page. ] The obvious answer is the Accords: Stark and I believed that the Avengers could not operate independently anymore, without oversight, answering only to ourselves. Rogers didn't.

[selfimage]

[ Loki's surprisingly quiet through the exchange. there's one specific thing he wanted to know, something that's been nagging at him since they all had arrived, tension as wires. for once, it wasn't about him, it was about someone else who he knew wore his blinders freely: Thor.

in the end, he doesn't sound surprised. ]

Mm—yes, that sounds about right. For the world I'm from the legislation was called the SRA. [ with some cadence, he continues: ] The Superhero Registration Act. It fractured the Avengers, along with the entire community, with lasting consequences.

I hope yours didn't end in a shapeshifting alien takeover.

[expatriates]

Not so far, but let me tell you how excited that makes me to head back.

[ Not at all. The amount is zero, and her voice is suitably dry to convey that. It helps her keep from focusing on that word—fractured. Are they? It's getting harder to deny. ]

text;

[hyperverbose]

[ attached .mp3 ]

[expatriates]

Glad to hear you're having a good time.

[hyperverbose]

i thought you might need that

[expatriates]

Because I'm the good, the bad, or the ugly?
Why do you have that on your phone?

[hyperverbose]

now you're just fishing for compliments, romanoff

special order.

[expatriates]

The draft's really working out for you, isn't it? You've got the suit, the music collection, Pepper.

[hyperverbose]

listing pepper along with my possessions smells like a woman trap in the making.

this is me, not stepping into it.

[expatriates]

I wasn't thinking of them as possessions. I think you're seeing the wrong trap.

text @red, after the fire, I know you're on hiatus so no rush, but since I missed the log by a lot

[gutpunching]

[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.]

clings to this to ease off hiatus into actual new threads ur the best

[expatriates]

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. ]

you and me both, friend

[gutpunching]

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?

[expatriates]

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. ]

[gutpunching]

[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.]

[expatriates]

I'm flattered.
And just a little curious. I'm guessing I don't get the details until I agree to come out.

[gutpunching]

[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.)]

delivered to her door on the 24th.

[webdesigned]

( there's no knock to inform of its presence, just suddenly a box from nowhere. if Natasha cares to open it she'll find a device jury-rigged from a few phones. it can take some pretty incredible pictures, hold notes, and project a small image from its own storage. it has a battery paired with a solar charger, reducing the risk it'll become useless.

there's a note that says,

you may not think secrets are necessary,
but thanks for keeping it anyway. )

DELIVERED ON DEC 24th.

[dishearten]

( outside natasha's door, she'll find a bottle of some rather familiar cactus alcohol, along with a tag attached.

for the record, you don't have to drink alone, either. )