Friends With the Monster

You Think I'm Crazy

Dayton, Ohio is her intended destination. Sipping a coffee with one hand, Natasha Romanoff works to lift the window's cover with the other. It clicks halfway and demands a bit of extra force to open the rest of the way. With wide framed sunglasses to cover the upper half of her face, the sleeve on her beige wool coat covers the rest as she sips her drink.

When Natasha travels outside of business, she will splurge for the best air traveling accommodations. 'Best' meaning flying off hours, claiming a window seat, during a lull in security staff to avoid abusing her spy perks. Only so many airport security guards will let her through with her arsenal but a young woman named Yvette is her favorite. She works on Tuesdays, and today her shift was 5-7. Romanoff gives her a gift and a bit of small talk, slipping through the metal detector with ease and with a small duffle swung over her shoulder she gets the all clear with all the perks a spy could ask for.

Except the quiet part. The older woman in the seat beside her clearly missed the 'quiet' memo, trying to open conversation about Natasha's phone case. How pretty her sunglasses are.

"Thank you," The redhead offers a small smile and immediately looks back out her window in the hopes of ending the conversation there.

"What's your name sweet girl?"

She's too sweet to ignore, with her well manicured nails tapping Natasha's arm.

The spy blinks. She might've slipped if she weren't trained by the infamous Mockingbird, by Director Nick Fury and by Hawkeye upon joining S.H.I.E.L.D;

"Nina."

"Nina,' the woman smiles with her eyes and with the curve of her thin lips, 'I'm Nancy. Do you have family in Ohio?"

Natasha nearly chokes on her next sip over the word 'family', nodding with her conditioned ability to lie- she can blame Ivan Dreykov for that one;

"Yes."

Carrying the conversation forward seems pointless but being polite is in her nature.

"You?" She asks timidly.

The woman named Nancy shakes her head, "I used to, dear. They've all gone now. I visit for the memories."

Natasha spares a softer grin at that and removes the glasses from off her face as the woman continues;

"I have no children. So. Once a year I travel to the Ohio home for Soldiers' and Sailors',' her lips smack together, adjusting her gloves, 'And I meet my husband for a picnic."

Natasha crosses her knee- it's as if she's still holding a piece of her together despite a brick or two in her wall slipping out;

"That's sweet."

"It's a waste of money,' she leans in, whispering, 'I must sound crazy to you."

Romanoff scoffs lightly, reassuring as her head falls backward, "No, it's sweet."

The ding over the loudspeaker might've been a saving grace, ready to question and engage a bit more. Nancy seems fixated on the safety announcements now, quick to pick up her crossword once the flight is air bound and suddenly conversation isn't as important.

Romanoff replaces her sunglasses and rotates to face the window, sleeping for the rest of the relatively quick flight.

. . . . . . . . . .

The plane lands without a hitch and with a bit of assistance from the polite man sitting in front of her, Nancy is gone without a 'goodbye'.

Romanoff is headed her own way, pulling up a reputable car service recommended by Clint Barton. Out on the street side of the airport and in the cold, she exhales nothing but smoke and triple checks the license plate she's waiting for.