[ when he arrives natasha's got her full bodysuit zipped up, woolen blanket bunched around her feet as she crouches over the fire pit where she's clearly made a hasty pile of firewood. she casts a flat stare, not quite a glower but none too impressed with him at the moment, concentration broken. the wine bottle goes ignored for the moment. ]
You.
[ she lights and loses another match; the wind outside is picking up. some of the villagers outside mentioned incoming weather. ]
You could have mentioned something about the evening temperature drops.
What, you thought bribing you a hundred bucks for overnight shipping to Wakanda was seriously because of my fashion sense?
[ Is his defensive retort, and by the way, guess what he's wearing. Captain One Arm is snug as a bug in a rug thanks to a jacket designed for romanian winters. Truth be told he does feel a little sympathy for her, they're in an area with a pretty strange climate, it takes some getting used to. She may be adept at surviving nearly every civilization known to man, but clearly she was never a girl scout.
If it looks like he's judging her for her weak attempt at a fire, it's because he is. You don't just throw lit matches over and over again, Natasha, jesus. He snorts, shakes his head, and all but hoists the bottle of wine at her. ]
Move over.
[ Let him fix this into something that might actually keep her warm for more than ten minutes at a time. A little poking around at her garbage kindling seems to remedy the situation, and he builds something worthwhile with quiet and practiced ease. ]
[ listen, boy scout assassin, she's tired and caught off guard and maybe not at the top of her game. most of her mental faculties are taken up with worry about her teammates scattered to the four winds. if she'd had two more minutes she'd have had it sorted out, but bucky just β interrupted her.
granted, he'd been doing her a favor, with the wine she's now holding.
and he still is.
but the way she makes room for him is slightly less than falling over herself with gratitude. there are few things natasha hates more than being shown up in a rare moment of weakness. what's more, it's in front of a former enemy. he may not be that man anymore, but he remembers being that man, and that's enough.
she glances at him sideways, through her hair. takes a deep breath once the fire looks healthy, adjusts the blanket over her lap. the bench where they sit is comfortable enough, straw mats and all. ]
I would've been fine in a minute.
[ it's muttered, and though without any heat to it, it's beyond petty. it's also an incredibly skewed version of a thank you. take what you can, barnes. (give nothing back.) ]
[ He's not expecting a thank you, he's not expecting anything at all except for her to be warmer, which is satisfaction all in and of itself. Believe it or not, he's not here to rub his awesome new Wakandan farmhand skills in her face, though apparently that's just the way the night's going tonight. ]
You're welcome.
[ Is his flat reply, unimpressed and dry as the desert in summer. It is what it is. He settles back on his haunches for a moment as though observing his progress, and once he's satisfied, shoves up to settle instead on the bench a few inches from her. Not on the clear opposite side, but with a comfortable couple of inches so she doesn't feel like he's here for something he's not.
Eyes flicker over her, then down to the bottle in her lap. ]
Figured you could use a drink. Maybe some company that isn't wearing a catsuit.
[ T'Challa is a great man and a great host, but he can be a little intense sometimes to outsiders. Unless you're his sister, it's all King Mufasa all the time. ]
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no subject
You.
[ she lights and loses another match; the wind outside is picking up. some of the villagers outside mentioned incoming weather. ]
You could have mentioned something about the evening temperature drops.
no subject
[ Is his defensive retort, and by the way, guess what he's wearing. Captain One Arm is snug as a bug in a rug thanks to a jacket designed for romanian winters. Truth be told he does feel a little sympathy for her, they're in an area with a pretty strange climate, it takes some getting used to. She may be adept at surviving nearly every civilization known to man, but clearly she was never a girl scout.
If it looks like he's judging her for her weak attempt at a fire, it's because he is. You don't just throw lit matches over and over again, Natasha, jesus. He snorts, shakes his head, and all but hoists the bottle of wine at her. ]
Move over.
[ Let him fix this into something that might actually keep her warm for more than ten minutes at a time. A little poking around at her garbage kindling seems to remedy the situation, and he builds something worthwhile with quiet and practiced ease. ]
no subject
granted, he'd been doing her a favor, with the wine she's now holding.
and he still is.
but the way she makes room for him is slightly less than falling over herself with gratitude. there are few things natasha hates more than being shown up in a rare moment of weakness. what's more, it's in front of a former enemy. he may not be that man anymore, but he remembers being that man, and that's enough.
she glances at him sideways, through her hair. takes a deep breath once the fire looks healthy, adjusts the blanket over her lap. the bench where they sit is comfortable enough, straw mats and all. ]
I would've been fine in a minute.
[ it's muttered, and though without any heat to it, it's beyond petty. it's also an incredibly skewed version of a thank you. take what you can, barnes. (give nothing back.) ]
no subject
You're welcome.
[ Is his flat reply, unimpressed and dry as the desert in summer. It is what it is. He settles back on his haunches for a moment as though observing his progress, and once he's satisfied, shoves up to settle instead on the bench a few inches from her. Not on the clear opposite side, but with a comfortable couple of inches so she doesn't feel like he's here for something he's not.
Eyes flicker over her, then down to the bottle in her lap. ]
Figured you could use a drink. Maybe some company that isn't wearing a catsuit.
[ T'Challa is a great man and a great host, but he can be a little intense sometimes to outsiders. Unless you're his sister, it's all King Mufasa all the time. ]