She takes it, but something in her jaw jumps when she does. Natasha's cycling through things that it takes time to register what she's actually seeing when she shoulders the sniper rifle. Her own defection was never like this. It was quick, sharp, a rug pulled out underneath her feet— it was never HYDRA squeezing their fist so tight she couldn't breathe.
The Red Room was a process, not a place. But even then.
A slow pan left, a slow pan right. Her breathing eases instinctively, trying to catch whatever it was that moved around through the sight but finding nothing.
no subject
She takes it, but something in her jaw jumps when she does. Natasha's cycling through things that it takes time to register what she's actually seeing when she shoulders the sniper rifle. Her own defection was never like this. It was quick, sharp, a rug pulled out underneath her feet— it was never HYDRA squeezing their fist so tight she couldn't breathe.
The Red Room was a process, not a place. But even then.
A slow pan left, a slow pan right. Her breathing eases instinctively, trying to catch whatever it was that moved around through the sight but finding nothing.
Offhandedly: ]
There's someone I want you to meet.