Natasha blinks once, twice. She shrugs as if paying for dinner really is his loss, like it's all a non-event, and fires the gun into the air.
It's loud, for obvious reasons. Something visibly changes in the set of her shoulders. Tension would be the wrong word for it — it's a little more akin to awareness, the ready-to-brace movement a parent might have when they spot their child in a tree. Movement forms in the distance, much more obvious than before, followed by another.
no subject
Natasha blinks once, twice. She shrugs as if paying for dinner really is his loss, like it's all a non-event, and fires the gun into the air.
It's loud, for obvious reasons. Something visibly changes in the set of her shoulders. Tension would be the wrong word for it — it's a little more akin to awareness, the ready-to-brace movement a parent might have when they spot their child in a tree. Movement forms in the distance, much more obvious than before, followed by another.
She frowns, but she doesn't move.