She considers for a long moment, whether she wants to tell him or not. She could leave it there. It's not like she's telling him everything to begin with. But the fact is (and maybe it's sad) but her relationship with Natasha has defined so much of her it feels fundamental, like it's only a half-answer to anything he's asked her if he doesn't understand that part, as tempting as it is to leave him with his Natasha that sounds like caring wasn't always losing.
"Yeah, but she... When I was nine, she literally saved my life. She called me little sister, gave me half of a five euro with her hourglass on it, and told me if I needed her, I could take it to any Embassy in the world and she'd come for me. I must have taken it to most of Embassy Row in DC. And they all laughed at me and threw it back in my face, pushed me back on the street. And when I was seventeen and I finally saw her again she told me it was because she told them to. And that I should thank her for the lesson."
There's a pause, because it still hurts to talk about, the words feel heavy in her throat as she admits to those eight years of hurt. She hadn't known why it had hurt, not with so much of her memory gone, but now? It was so close to one of those old lessons-- trust no one, no one will care for you, weapons don't deserve it. She lets it hang in the air long enough to process, but not long enough to talk about. Not tonight.
"So the bike. The card. It's good. I'd have been really pissed if they hadn't brought it through." She finishes the last of her pancakes, down to every last blueberry and looks like she might have considered eating the syrup with a spoon for a second. Look, those were amazing. "You wanna see?"
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"Yeah, but she... When I was nine, she literally saved my life. She called me little sister, gave me half of a five euro with her hourglass on it, and told me if I needed her, I could take it to any Embassy in the world and she'd come for me. I must have taken it to most of Embassy Row in DC. And they all laughed at me and threw it back in my face, pushed me back on the street. And when I was seventeen and I finally saw her again she told me it was because she told them to. And that I should thank her for the lesson."
There's a pause, because it still hurts to talk about, the words feel heavy in her throat as she admits to those eight years of hurt. She hadn't known why it had hurt, not with so much of her memory gone, but now? It was so close to one of those old lessons-- trust no one, no one will care for you, weapons don't deserve it. She lets it hang in the air long enough to process, but not long enough to talk about. Not tonight.
"So the bike. The card. It's good. I'd have been really pissed if they hadn't brought it through." She finishes the last of her pancakes, down to every last blueberry and looks like she might have considered eating the syrup with a spoon for a second. Look, those were amazing. "You wanna see?"