[ To her credit: there is no dramatic point of the gun, no trigger discipline. The gun stays where it is. Her left hand twitches, just once, and then returns back to the keyboard, a steady stream of clicks and clacks. ]
You know I only work with Macbooks.
[ She shoots him a look out of her peripheral. It is, of course, not quite the Steve she was expecting.
Natasha turns. Her back straight, an air of casual conversation in her spine as she leans back, one hand clamped around the edge of the table. He doesn't look any younger, but his hair's different; there's a shift in how set his shoulders are. His shield is still shiny-metal rather than in full, iconic color.
no subject
You know I only work with Macbooks.
[ She shoots him a look out of her peripheral. It is, of course, not quite the Steve she was expecting.
Natasha turns. Her back straight, an air of casual conversation in her spine as she leans back, one hand clamped around the edge of the table. He doesn't look any younger, but his hair's different; there's a shift in how set his shoulders are. His shield is still shiny-metal rather than in full, iconic color.
She nods, just once. ]
You look different.