Ah. So, he feels forgotten about? It's a surprisingly ... normal thing, considering who he is. Considering who they are. Is it any wonder that Steve has more on his plate right now than calling up Bucky and asking about his progress? (Though she has a hard time believing that they haven't been in touch at all — though maybe that's just her. After all, she hadn't heard much from Steve before he asked her to come here.)
Still, Bucky's halfway out of the room before she's crafted a careful response, and she lets him go. He's let something slip, they both know it, and her social skills have eroded in the weeks spent studying the outline of the Raft and how best to free everyone. Better he get his space and she work on trying to find something resembling empathy.
When he returns, she raises her own glass to him, "Vashe zdorov'ye," tips it back and drains it the same way that he does. Common past, he hints, and so she's only slightly off guard at his words. It's her turn to pause, to give something away — surprise in her eyes, then guarded wariness. If he remembers her, then...
"Natasha," she says, finally. "No one calls me Natalia anymore."
No one except him, a thousand years ago. Another time, another place — she'd like to convince herself that it was another Black Widow, too. But it's all jumbled together in her head, always; the conditioning, the memories of him (James), her defection.. All there, quieter most days, but never forgotten.
no subject
Still, Bucky's halfway out of the room before she's crafted a careful response, and she lets him go. He's let something slip, they both know it, and her social skills have eroded in the weeks spent studying the outline of the Raft and how best to free everyone. Better he get his space and she work on trying to find something resembling empathy.
When he returns, she raises her own glass to him, "Vashe zdorov'ye," tips it back and drains it the same way that he does. Common past, he hints, and so she's only slightly off guard at his words. It's her turn to pause, to give something away — surprise in her eyes, then guarded wariness. If he remembers her, then...
"Natasha," she says, finally. "No one calls me Natalia anymore."
No one except him, a thousand years ago. Another time, another place — she'd like to convince herself that it was another Black Widow, too. But it's all jumbled together in her head, always; the conditioning, the memories of him (James), her defection.. All there, quieter most days, but never forgotten.
"I didn't think you remembered me."