15995/Littlest Widow

Littlest Widow
Date of Scene:	24 January 2024
Location:	Security, The Triskelion
Synopsis:	Magic sucks and now 15 year old Natasha is in the custody of SHIELD. Agent Aaron gets assigned babysitting duty.
Cast of Characters:	Phobos, Black Widow (Romanoff)

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Phobos has posed:
    Down the hall the SHIELD agents walked, footsteps were quick with steady strides. Agent Aaron was in the center of the small cadre of operatives, his expression was stern and his gait steady. He said little as they moved, just listening to the words rattled off by Agent Hezekiah Ramage, one of the WAND Occultists who was speaking so rapidly that the young Olympian had to focus to parcel it out, yet his thoughts were already racing ahead.
    "After the other Avengers were able to curtail the security alert and limited her flight, they were able to lock her down and secure her transport. She's in Cell 3, not the traditional interrogation room. It was felt that the more secure setting is the wiser choice. We already have calls out to Dr. Strange and Zatanna Zatara but you know how flighty those who operate in the spheres of the supernatural can be. Also contacting a Nico Minoru as a stop gap option just in case matters progress to a point we need to take action."
    Alexander quirks an eyebrow sidelong at the man but still says nothing, keeping his counsel to himself for now. He doesn't take any offense at what the man said, he knows how magic-users can be flaky as all hell, though Agent Ramage likely forgot that Alexander was something supernatural himself.
    Yet the WAND agent continued as they strode down the hall. "We just need to buy time, and since you're one of the people on station who knows her the best..." He clears his throat, not elaborating on the nature of that relationship. Which earns another sidelong glance.
    At the security checkpoint is when Agent Ramage stops walking beside Alexander. Agent Aaron turns and holds out his arms, letting the guards sweep him and frisk him, making sure he's carrying nothing on him. He's wearing black sweat pants with white sneakers and a white t-shirt. No belt was allowed, no wallet, no cellphone, nothing in his pockets, nothing solid. They even took the small lace from the waist of his sweat pants in case she used it to hang herself or choke someone with it.
    Once the guards gave the nod and the all clear Agent Ramage gave a nod, "Alright, good luck."
    And with that he entered the airlock to the cell block area, and then moved down the way toward door labeled #3.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
It was a heavy metal door though there was a window in it. Though that window was about four inches of bulletproof glass, thus something that wouldn't be easy for someone to break in an escape attempt. This cell was special, created for the most difficult of prisoners. There were five things in the room. There was the mirrored wall that was also made of glass that wouldn't be breaking unless perhaps someone assaulted it with one of the two steel chairs in the room. Unlikely to impossible unless someone had super strength because those two chairs, on opposite sides of a matching steel table, were welded to the cold metal floor. The table was likewise immovable. There were a few lights but they were recessed and behind thick glass as well. Most people wouldn't be able to reach them. If they did, they wouldnt't be able to get through the thick glass to get to anything important. Or dangerous.

And the last thing in the room was the small redhead. She was right around five feet, with a very slim build. Though, if one knew where to look, they would know that there was a lot of muscle mass on that slight form. Her hair was very short, that boyish style that looked so good on some women. She was young, perhaps 15. And currently, she was shackled, the shackles at ankles and wrists, then locked to a heavy bolt on the floor between her feet. Thus, she wasn't going anywhere.

Though she was looking around and there was a rattle of the chains as she turned to look at the mirrored surface. Then back to the room. Her eyes moved from spot to spot, considering and dismissing ideas as they came to her.

For this young woman was none other than Natasha Romanoff. Or more precisely, Natalia Romanova. A fifteen-year old Natalia at that.

Phobos has posed:
    The door opened and fed her information starved brain the first few threads of new intel she'd had in the last day. First off she would time the opening of the door and what little she could glimpse beyond it. The next she'd key to the person who entered, examining his manner, his body language, his movements. When her eyes met his he could tell she was instantly weighing him against her read of him, taking stock and making decisions.
    She'd likely read that ease of his movements. Confidence she'd likely take away from it. Perhaps over-confidence, which makes him a target for manipulation. Something in him, he doesn't fear her, so clearly he doesn't know her. That makes him vulnerable.
    But then he moves over to the chair silently, his rather casual clothes making not a sound as he moves. He rests a hand on the chair opposite her, then sits in it.
    For a time she might figure this was the moment when he'd start in his rehearsed speech, something he'd think would manipulate her, put her off or on edge. But no speech is coming. Not yet at least. Instead he's just... looking at her.
    A moment passes. Then his eyebrow quirks and he continues to watch. And perhaps deducing what her first thought might be. Her first internal question.
    He answers it. As best he can at least. When he tells her what he's doing here. "I'm here to help you pass the time safely until we can resolve this situation."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
American accent. Just like the ones that she had been around when they brought her here. Though it had been uniforms and people in colorful costumes which was confusing. They had devices she had never seen before and she had been making sure to take careful note of it all to report when she got back to the Red Room.

Though, in truth, she was positive she was in the Red Room. This was one of their simulations, to test their agents to see if they were ready for field work yet. She'd always done well in those and she had no intention of that changing today.

The silence that stretched between them as he sat watching her wasn't uncomfortable but it was unexpected. She shifted a bit in her chair, the chain clinking slightly and the clothing she wore rustling. For it wasn't made of material. That could be manipulated in a way that it could become a weapon. Thus, she was wearing paper. In essence. Thick enough to be able to keep her covered without tearing when she moved but not thick enough she could easily fashion some sort of weapon without them being wise to it.

"Situation?" She made sure to use an American accent as well. In fact, suddenly she sounded like she was from New York. And not just New York but Brooklyn. If one didn't know better, they'd think she was a native. Alexander knew better. As did any SHIELD personnel that might be behind that mirror. And as she looked at him, the fear began to be shown along with a frown. Then a few tears started to make her eyes glassy. "I wanna go home. Who are you people? Why did you grab me and bring me here?" She rattled the handcuffs loudly. "Why am I bolted down like some animal? Please, my parents have to be worried sick about me."

Phobos has posed:
    "You can consider us the authorities. My name is Alexander. Alexander Aaron." He then cocks his head slightly to the side, and that is the moment he does something that might shift her understanding of the situation one way more than the other as his voice changes to be a perfect presentation of the Russian language with a hint of a Kiev accent as he continues to watch her.
    << And you are Natalia Romanova, of the Red Room, assassin and agent for the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. >>
    A beat as he gives her just enough time to start processing that data before he gives her another stream of it as he says, << You are in America. The year is 2032. You have been afflicted by an alteration that has changed your perception to a time of your past. As well as your physical self. >>
    Yet as he says this outlandish thing, she can read instantly that he is... or at least he believes he is telling her the truth.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
When he switched to Russian, the frown remained and she suddenly was looking toward the door again. But perhaps not for the reason that he was thinking. There was a sudden spike of fear that he would be able to feel. If it wasn't already strange enough facing a young Natasha that emotion being so strong in her was new as well. Current year Natasha rarely felt fear. Just small hints, enough for self-preservation to be a thing. But not a spike like she just had. Though if they were monitoring her heartbeat or the like, it thudded fast for about two beats then she drew on her training to force herself to relax. No matter the panic going on in her brain. Present that image of calm at all times, never give away emotions.

Just the ones she wanted to present which was what she stuck with. "I...you..." And now she was trying to push her chair back. When that didn't work, she stood and tugged at those chains but she couldn't really /move/ anywhere other than right there at the chair. She was forced to sit back down or just be there awkwardly due to the distance from chair to the table.

"Was that Russian? Oh God, please! I want to go home!" Another shifting of chains beneath the table out of sight. "Why are you doing this? I'm a nobody. Just a kid. I go to school at Brooklyn Heights High. My best friend's name is Nancy. I study dance at Madame Leonne's studio three blocks from my house." The tears were sliding down her cheeks now, the role played so perfectly.

And the most interesting thing was she was considering what he said. It would explain the vehicles she had seen. The technology. But no, this was just a test. If she went giving herself away, she'd fail and they would punish her. Though, if they were to look into the info she just gave, it would all be places that actually existed in Brookyln. But about 80 years ago or more.

Phobos has posed:
    She switches back to English and so he does as well. He doesn't have a New York accent, though there's a hint of something there. Mid-West? But hard to pin down, not something that stands out. Perhaps he's coached himself out of it. Yet he tells her quietly as he keys into part of what she feeds him, and part of what she's told him.
     "No, you studied with Yuri Gregorovich as well as Altynai Asylmuratova of the Bolshoi. You have also received some instruction in gymnastics from Leonid Arkayev in preparation for the 1952 Olympics." His features remain at ease, his focus steady upon her. He raises his hands to rest them on the edge of the table, perhaps just to show her where they are.
    "I also know what happened to your former roommate, Annika. You still carry that weight with you even in this late year."
    He takes a deep breath, holds it, then releases it slowly. "I know things seem difficult right now." He levels his gaze at her, "I am here to make sure you don't hurt anyone, and that we pass the time peacefully until we can get this resolved with you returning to normal. I just want peace as we wait."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He wasn't buying it. At all. He was sticking to his guns. But then he said something that caught her attention. It wasn't that he know about the ballet or the gymnastics. It wasn't that he knew she was being trained in hopes of getting her into the Olympic games in '52. It wasn't even that he knew what happened to Annika.

He knew it bothered her.

That was something that she had hidden very deeply. To show such a weakness would be a disaster with her trainers. Never had she cried a tear because she knew they were always watching. Never has she said a word about the other girl once she was gone. It had been a task. She had performed it. It was over. Yet, he knew.

And though she was not the woman she would be in decades, she was pretty good at reading people even at 15. Not great but she could tell he believed what he was saying.

Now this brought up a conundrum. Was he also an operative who had his mind manipulated and thus believed what he was saying? Or was this...real? That couldn't be.

And for the first time, he saw her gaze drop to the table a moment, that confusion and doubt replacing the crocodile tears. Then she snapped her gaze back to him as she made a choice.

<<Let me go and I won't kill you.>> And she stared at him. This fifteen year old slip of a girl. With eyes that showed she had no doubt she would be able to do it if she wanted to. Which might seen odd considering her current state of being shackled in a room with nothing she could use as a weapon.

Phobos has posed:
    As she said those words, the effortless roll of Russian off her lips, he watched her. And he too could tell she was not lying. She saw him take a deep breath, and if he knew about her, if he knew what made her what she was, then she might be surprised to not see his own flicker of fear. Instead his pale hazel eyes held hers. He didn't look away, didn't answer what she just said. Instead he tries to shift her thoughts in another direction.
    << Stop for a moment. Observe around you. The security in this room. Its structure. Its construction. Consider that this is overkill for who you are. You must understand this is... beyond the norm even for someone of your skill. Your options here are exceedingly limited. You are in a facility that could house an individual of excessive danger potential. That is because it is not for who you are. But for the woman you will become. The respect you are owed. >>
    He lets those words sink in, a beat, then he continues, << I understand this is too much to absorb. And you will think I am lying to you. Or that I have been manipulated. I am just asking for you to give me time. 72 hours. If it goes beyond that. Then I'll see you are set free. So long as you harm no one. >>

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He wasn't wrong.

Everything she had seen thus far had her confused. First she had just suddenly been at a location with a big fight going on around her. She had turned to hightail it away and been pursused by people in colorful costumes. The locations she has gone through had been mostly industrial in nature but they didn't seem to fit the architecture in the Soviet Union. Not that she'd had time to think about it. Then people in tactical gear had joined and she didn't remember anything until she woke up in this cell. She had been stripped, put into these paper clothes. She had been shackled to the floor.

Considering the Americans didn't even know about the Red Room, how would they know how dangerous she was. And honestly, it was a bit extra for someone of her skill level. She could see it for the instructors or even the Winter Soldier. But her?!

She considered his words. A shifting of her arms and the rattle of chains. Then she brought her hands up to the table. The still closed handcuffs were tossed onto the metal surface with a clang and he would hear the chains from the shackles hit the floor loudly. The cuffs slid a little but then stopped right in front of him.

He would probably notice that one of her thumbs was out of joint. She carefully brought one hand to the edge of the table, positioned it just so and used her other hand to help snap it back into place with a wet noise. No other sounds. No pain. And he would realize those rattling chains he had been hearing hadn't been her moving around just to move, it had been her slipping the cuffs. The noise had covered the sound of those dislocations, though the other thumb had already been put back in place before she had shared her little secret.

<<Seventy-two hours. Of us sitting here staring at each other? Can I at least get one of those cheeseburgers you Americans make at your...>> She paused then said the word in English. "Barbeques."

Phobos has posed:
    If he had just been running with a good pokerface, that moment of revelation would have likely shaken it. But when he sees that she's free, his brow just knits slightly. No flicker of trepidation, no displeasure at the change to their circumstances. Instead he observes and gauges her, watching her closely with his hands still on the edge of the table.
    She then asks her question and he turns his head slightly. But instead of giving voice to a question he simply nods. "Maybe even two."
    It was the smallest nod to the concept of humor, but no smile accompanied it. He folded his hands together then, and then he said. "Seventy-two hours."
    A beat, then he adds, "Thank you."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
A while later...

Natalia used the paper napkin to wipe her lips, removing a smear of ketchup that had been there a moment before. She tossed the last bite of her second cheeseburger into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully as she crumpled up the paper wrapper it had been held in upon arrival. "That...was far better than it has a right to be. Between that and blue jeans and your swing music..." Way to age herself there. For when she had been 15, it was the 1940s. Before Rock and Roll became a thing.

"It could make someone a little jealous. Especially if you had chocolate too." A little arch of a brow, a hint of that smirk that he would come to know so well from the older version of her.

When the food had been delivered, she had been left alone. He hadn't forced her to be shackled again, something she appreciated. But while he was gone, she did take the opportunity to walk around the room a bit. The thing was, she did still have the shackles on her ankles. It wasn't so simple to slip them as it had been with her hands. THe heel interefered. But by removing the handcuffs, it had allowed the chain holding them all together and to the floor to slide free and thus giving her some movement.

She had examined the wall, the door, peeked out at the guards that had been assigned to the door until his return then they would move back further down the hall. The lighting above and how it was kept from being accessed. No light switches or outlets. Very good design really. The air vent was even covered with heavy bars so there was no gaining access to it without tools of some sort.

Now that she was full of cheesebugery goodness, she leaned back in her chair a little and folded her arms over her tummy. "Now I need ice cream. But after two of those, probably for the best to wait a bit." Seemed she was going to have some demands being stuck that long. But now she could focus on more important things.

"Are you that good really? You aren't afraid. Despite knowing what I can do."

Phobos has posed:
    He had brought the food in with little fanfare, set it down on the table. He took his place back in the chair and had waited. He didn't join her, perhaps already having eaten something while he was outside the cell, or perhaps just holdnig off. As she ate he sat there and watched her, no hint of embarrassment or chagrin at keeping her under his observation.
    Once she was done he lifted his chin when she addressed him. He had seen that smirk and despite the small touch of a flutter of recognition it caused he kept his manner as controlled as possible. Then she asked her question and he lifted his chin a little.
    Silence was her answer at first. A slow blink from those eerie eyes. She had never seen irises that color before, so pale. It made him look almost alien. He did have those handsome features that might remind her of... what was it Americans were watching? Surfer movies? Yet if he be held up and compared to those stereotypes he should be oafish, foolish, stupid. He seemed none of that.
    Then he answered, "In this period of time, I'm not the strongest soul in the world. But I do passingly well. I don't know about ice cream. Or chocolate. Maybe on day 2 if we make it without incident." Which is a typical tactic she knows. Carrot and the stick of course. Yet there's no malice nor manipulation in his tone or manner.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"You didn't answer the question." And that got a flash of a smile from her as she remained in that comfortable position, half sprawled in her chair. Just laid back and having a nice conversation. Not a killer spy at all.

She waved a hand dismissively. "I understand. Don't give anything away. Though I should tell you, as a woman, having chocolate withheld makes us more dangeruos and less agreeable. Something to remember next time you use the carrot and stick ploy."

For that was something she'd been taught herself for interrogations. In fact, this her had done a few test interrogations but nothing big yet. It was prior to her meeting his father in the past so she had no idea about John Aaron (or whatever he called himself at the time).

"Will we remain her for the entire seventy-two hours? I will need to go to the privy at some point and--no offense because you are quite attractive--I'd rather you not watch me when I do. Is there a holding cell or something? Or do we sit and you don't answer questions while knowing everything about me? After you said you would answer questions." If he could but she chooses to omit that part.

Phobos has posed:
    What is the response to her hint toward humor? A slight exhale, just a small controlled breath given life as he holds her gaze with his. He merely observes, listening to her, offering nothing in return for now. Though when she brings up the privy he gives a nod. "Thought's been given to that, when you need to go you'll be able to in some degree of privacy."
    A slow blink is given then he adds, "Though, to be fair, your vital signs are being closely monitored. If you're going to make an attempt at running, wait until you really have to go. Since otherwise they'll know when you're faking it."
    And there she's given a small tidbit of intel. A hint about her situation, and him slightly shifting his stance and allegiance, naming the others beyond this room as 'them' as if they operated with a shared cause. Yet she can tell he's not intending to trick her, or subvert her. On some level it was sincere, he does feel apart from those beyond for... some reason.
    "As for questions. Well." Then that's the first time she'll have seen it. At least this... version of her. The first time when she sees the ghost of a smile that flirts with the corner of his mouth. It's a subtle expression but it changes the entirety of his features, brightens them, warms them... makes him seem all the more human.
    It's with that small smile that he says, "Well there are questions. And then there are questions."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Oh I see. You're afraid I'm trying to get intel out of you. I already promised I'd be good." She held up her hands, wrists together, as though she was still cuffed. "For 72 hours. Though I think at this point, we've made it to 70?" It hadn't quite been two hours but it certainly felt like it looked in a little room staring at a blank walls and a very non-talkative agent.

"Why you? And I don't intimidate you in the least. Is it because I'm not an adult? Therefore I can't really be a threat?" And /that/ had her smirking, a very open expression. But it wasn't quite that smirk he knew from mature Natasha. This one had a very better-than-thou sort of edge to it as though she was ready to prove her worth. Yet, she had promised to behave. And not hurt anyone. That did include him, after all.

"And you are the only person I've ever seen with eyes that color." She shifted, paper clothes making an annoying noise that she was over an hour ago. Propping her chin on her hand and her elbow on the table, she leaned forward to stare openly at his eyes. "Little gold flecks in there but they are kind of give the heebie-jeebies when you aren't smiling. Is that why they picked you to be my babysitter? Because you might come across as intimidating?"

Phobos has posed:
    "No. Noo." The word lingers a bit as spoken, just hanging there for a moment. "From my position..." Those pale eyes watch her and he considers her for a time what to tell, how much to tell. "I am trying to consider what I can tell you, and what the risk involved in it might be. Not from... any active action on your part, or security breach more..."
    He stops and she realizes he's laying out the structure of his thoughts within his mind and creating some sort of... framework. And the way his expression narrows she can tell he's not having much luck with it. Which allows her to continue, to comment about him. And about his eyes.
    He chews on the inside of his cheek and he says. "Might be best to start at the beginning in a way. And build upon your understanding. So let us begin with something you might be aware of."
    He lifts his chin slightly, "Is the war still going on for you, or has it been over?" He asks about The war, the one that likely created the entirety of the Red Room.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Not sure why there is a problem. It's not like I'm asking for state secrets. Though if there are any of those you'd like to share, it would look good on my record when I get back home."

As though she would be getting back home. She was doubting him now. He'd said 72 hours but she had the feeling it would be more if whatever he was hoping happened didn't happen.

Throw in that he was claiming it was 2032. Which meant that she was in the future. Did explain some things she had seen but now he wanted to know more about her and have her answer questions. But she opted to play along for this one.

"Yes. Despite what you are telling me, it's 1945."

And there it was. The year she would meet Ares during her first official interrogation. Despite her young age.

"Not sure how that plays into things but do elaborate please."

Phobos has posed:
    She answers that and he nods, then it's his turn to explain and be forthcoming. And so he is, "I don't know if you are, but I hope you are aware of the projects that Germany embarked on before its final defeat. The desperate ones they struggled with, things having to do with occult and the supernatural." He says this calmly, steadily. Since he knew on some level that eventually she does become involved in it. When she disovers the man deep in the bunker of Camp 45.
    "Well it turns out they were onto something, for there are elements of the supernatural in the world. And things progress after the war. More and more elements are discovered. Science marches on, but so does the exploration of... alternate technology some call it. Magic, is best though I know you'll be incredulous."
    At that she might see a hint of that smile again, though his eyes lower slightly to the tabletop, before they return to her. "It advances to such a degree that in this future that you are visiting... magic is known to the public, albeit to a limited extent. And you were involved in an incident with a user of such a thing. The situation created a scenario where... the older version of yourself has been displaced by..."
    He raises a hand and uncurls it toward her, the first time that he's not holding them a little hidden with his fingers interlaced. "Now why I'm not telling you everything... is because I... have no idea how all this works. I'm not... someone that practices magic. I have a concern."
    He says that last word with some emphasis and lets it hang there in the air. "That when we are able to undo it... and you are sent back... that you might have the memory of this event. And I worry that if I tell you too much, it might change the world."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
He said the M-word. And she snorted. She didn't mean to but it was involuntary that he was talking about magic like it was a real thing. Though, she had indeed been told that some people did pursue the occult in hopes of gaining power, include a certain former artist turned lunatic in Germany.

She didn't interrupt outside that. Simply listened as he explained the situation she found herself in a bit further. When he did, she fell silent for a bit. Watched him closely as things ran their course inside her brain. "The old paradox of time travel. Though I guess the question is are we displaced or am I just a reversed in age version of the same person. Just needing to be aged back up with the memories that go with the time that passes. Though..."

And now her brow furrowed a bit. "It's 2032. And I'm still around?" A little shake of the head. "I knew the serum was supposed to slow aging but to think I'm still around almost 100 years later is hard to wrap my head around."

Immediately, Nat wondered what her older self was like. Was she still fighting the good fight? The Americans knew about her so her cover had obviously been blown. And they were giving her a lot of security which meant they saw her as a very serious threat. At that age.

"If I am understanding, you think that within 72 hours you might find a way to reverse things. Thus not wanting to give away too much. But, if I am the young version of myself, the old version of myself would've already known this was going to happen. I don't think you can change that. Though, again, it's all theories and guess work." A little tilt of the head. "Unless you have had time travel actually work in the future and it has broken the world before?"

Phobos has posed:
    "But you can understand why I'm hedging my bets." The young blond man looks at her and for the first time she might catch a hint of... some sort of emotion there. Something beyond the casual distance and politeness created for the situation. He watches, listens, nods. "I'm hoping it gets resolved soon. There are formidable people working on it right now."
    A small shrug is given then he says, "But if it goes past that time limit, I do intend to get you out. Since if a solution isn't forthcoming, then we may not know how long you'll be like this. And there's no legal reason to imprison you. You've done nothing wrong. Yet."
    He blinks slowly, then he lets a ghost of a smile touch his lips again. "So I don't know. Ask me things you want to know and I'll try to answer as best I can."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
Something was there but it was fleeting. One moment later and it was gone like it didn't exist. She wasn't sure what it was but he seemed to have more of a stake in this than one might think at first. Perhaps that was why he was chosen to guard her.

Or he was just that good.

They obviously considered future her a threat. So if he was allowed to be here alone, instead of a half dozen of them as when she'd been captured, then perhaps there was something more to him.

He would see she was starting to analyze him more. No attempt to try to hide it. A glance at his build again, to his hands, the way he moved and general way he carried himself. He seemed at ease but was he really?

"Why do you know so much about me? You knew down to the name of instructors and that information was not known by Americans. Do I get captured and broken thus giving up secrets?" She seemed shocked that this might be a possiblity because it was so foreign to her. She would never betray the Motherland in such a way.

"And how old do I look in this time?" Because she understood slowed aging. So she figured maybe half speed. Thus she's probably look to be in her 40s or maybe 50s?

Phobos has posed:
    She can sense that moment of hesitation. It's there for an instant. Then gone when she presses through her initially question and asks the second one. He doesn't answer that one either, not right away. But this time his hesitation has a hint of... amusement to it? It's barely there and only someone with her keen talents reading the body language of someone can discern it. Yet it also might make her aware with how cagey he's being, and how well he controls those micro-tells... he knows that part of her bag of tricks.
    Yet he answers then, though it takes the space of seven heartbeats before he does so. "We're friends here." He says, lifting his eyes upwards as if signifying the building that she's in. "We work together."
    He lets that lie there as an explanation. But then he says, "The serum you've taken retards the aging process. Though it does so better than your research team expects since it synergizes with your personal body chemistry."
    Another pause then he says, "You grow up to be a stunning woman." For a moment he might have been about to say something else, but he doesn't hesitate overly long.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"Well, of course I did." Which has a hint of humor to the tone but it's gone when Natalia continues, "But that's good. It's a tool that can be used." And that sort of lets him know a little more about her upbringing in that she equates it that way. It isn't just that she's happy to be good looking. She doesn't even care. She just is pleased she will have another thing to use in her arsenal.

But her words were just stalling because she was trying very hard to figure this one out now. He had been amused when she asked about her appearance. Presumably thinking her vain. She just was trying to figure out how she was still kicking that many years later. And was she kicking or sitting behind a desk somewhere helping to deal with assignments for the newest Red Room graduates?

They worked together. He didn't look like a desk worker. Though, one couldn't judge a book by its cover. But just the way he was built showed he did much physical activity, liked to work out or did it for necessity? She wasn't sure which.

<<Here?>> And she switched to Russian for this conversation. Not like it mattered. No doubt they had a translator available for just this, to be sure he was doing the right thing as well. <<Have we managed to take over the United States after all?>>

Phobos has posed:
    He didn't slip into Russian, instead he stayed speaking English for some reason or another. Some internal reason he manages to keep close to the vest. Though he does answer her, "I think you understand why I can't really answer that."
    His lips purse slightly as he looks to the side, then he looks back. "But we work for an agency that focuses mainly on greater threats that transcend ideology." He says that simply, giving little insight, but perhaps something that can be taken away if revealing little.
    He turns his head to the side and she can get the sense he's searching his thoughts, then he says. "You still drink both fine vodka, and terrible vodka." His brow knits, considering what else he can relate. "You still dance." A pause, "But more just for yourself."
    He lifts one hand to the back of his neck and rubs the muscle there, before he says. "You've lived many stories."

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"So I do not retire from all of this and become a prima ballerina. Not a surprise," she says with a smile. Because she can't imagine never serving her country. Which is why it is curious he says they work together for a group that trascends ideology. The USSR and USA working together on something? That seemed impossible to her mind. Though, with that many decades, who knew what might happen?

Though she was guessing neither Germany nor Japan were going to win the current war, or at least they weren't going to be taking over the United States. She wasn't so sure about the USSR but she was certain he wouldn't answer that if she asked. She frowned ver so slightly at the possibility the dismissed it as there was no way that pissant of a man was going to take Mother Russian.

"With living that long, that also is not a surprise. Though.." And here she considered a moment. "I am guessing that most people I know from my time, unless they have been given the serum, are also dead. That is a strange thought."

Phobos has posed:
    "You are a very introspective person, and one of the things that you ponder is about life under longevity. The serum doesn't propagate, only about one out of every... billion people can endure its effects. But you're not alone." He says that last bit, then he smiles slightly. "You have some contemporaries. And you make new... comrades."
    That last bit he says steadily.
    He takes a deep breath and then says, "I'm trying to figure out what else we can talk about safely."
    His eyebrows furrow, then they rise. He looks at her, "My favorite form of entertainment is watching... moving picture shows of trains traveling slowly across countries."
    As he says that it does make him smile, and those eyes... there is endearment in those eyes.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"They make movies of such things?" She seems a little shocked. "I had no idea." For movies are indeed a thing in her time. Though she was more educated on them so she would have information that might come up in conversation when she was under cover. It wasn't something she was allowed to do for enjoyment.

Though she supposed she might as well be honest. "I enjoy musicals. Or the theater where I can watch ballet." A dropping of her gaze a moment, that tell she has still that she will eventually learn to hide. Where there is that hint of discomfort. "We are not allowed to watch for enjoyment. Only to study. But it is a small price to pay to serve." And there is what was taught to them all along.

"There are others who will live long then? This is good." Then a little pursing of the ips and she considers him thoughtfully. "You still know a lot about me for someone I work with. We do not generally share private things yet you know I dance still but for myself. That I enjoy vodka still, which is something that would be very unknown because we do not /enjoy/ such things in the Red Room."

But then the hint of amusement in her green eyes. "And there is no such thing as bad vodka. We are not so good of friends after all, perhaps."

Phobos has posed:
    "I know you also like to read the end of a mystery novel before you start." The way he says this there's a hint of accusation, and for the first time she gets the hint that he's perhaps not being entirely truthful. But it's clear he is making light, and there's a hint of ease... in that interaction from him. Familiarity. As if they have joked around before. Only she's never seen him before this day.
    He takes a deep breath and nods, "I tend to learn all I can about the people I work with." Which was true, though it's a lie of a half-truth. "We've also known each other for a very long time."
    Again, another half-truth.
    "Have you heard of sushi? You come to enjoy that." He offers that as well. Harmless things, but touchstones. Perhaps on some level delving to see if there are any of those old memories from his Natasha there.
    Then he offers, "Also you like to imagine you are never wrong, but you often are. Especially about vodka." He gives a single nod, almost stoic as if imparting the wisdom of Solomon to her.

Black Widow (Romanoff) has posed:
"The Japanese sushi?" In case there is some other kind of sushi 87 years in the future. "Interesting. I have never tried it though I learned about it when we had our training on Japanese traditions and culture." For they trained on a lot of different aspects since they never knew where they might be sent. And while she obviously was not going to pass as someone from Japan, she would pass for an American in Japan. Or British. Or German. Or French. And so many others. So it was best they knew ways to not offend thus not draw attention. Well, more attention. Japan really didn't like visitors much so the few they did have stood out.

"I suppose it is not so much that you try to learn about the people you work with. It is more that I told you any of this. You mentioned we are friends but..." And that drop of the eyes, a cut of the gaze toward the door as though expecting a trainer to come through at any moment and punish her. He felt a little trickle of that fear in her. But it wasn't visible in her manner outside that tell in the glance. Then she was looking at him again. "We do not have those. Much must change"

"As for if I am always right? I suspect that I am not. But I also believe I would not admit that. However, about vodka? I know I am correct. Americans cannot appreciate it properly. It is not in your blood."

Phobos has posed:
    "The only thing constant in life is change, after all."
    A pause is given then he pushes his hands down onto the table and uses that to slowly ease himself to his feet. As she makes that return jibe he smiles a little and says, "I'm American, that's true. But also Greek. The appreciation of fine alcohol is definitely in my blood." Considering his uncle...
    He rests a hand on the table and lightly raps his knuckles on it.
    "I'll see about getting that ice cream. Or some chocolate." That said he turns and starts to move toward the door.