[Natasha wouldn't deserve this. He doesn't know what happens when a soul is sacrificed for--he wasn't even all that certain souls existed until...
Oh. God. It's her. There's a temptation to make damn sure, to whistle, call and response, but who else could it be?
He turns to her, fully, hands out at his sides and tense in a way that says he's expecting things to turn bad. That they haven't right off the bat is great, if bizarre, but one should never take chances with a Widow.]
She deserves a hell of a lot better than this.
[There is finally some spark of recognition in his gaze, but not the 'hey it's been a while, how have you been' kind. It's tentative. Like he might still be wrong. Maybe it's another Widow.]
no subject
Oh. God. It's her. There's a temptation to make damn sure, to whistle, call and response, but who else could it be?
He turns to her, fully, hands out at his sides and tense in a way that says he's expecting things to turn bad. That they haven't right off the bat is great, if bizarre, but one should never take chances with a Widow.]
She deserves a hell of a lot better than this.
[There is finally some spark of recognition in his gaze, but not the 'hey it's been a while, how have you been' kind. It's tentative. Like he might still be wrong. Maybe it's another Widow.]