The lost Widow - Natasha Romanoff x Female

Chapter XX

Three pairs of eyes gazed at the plastered façade of a spacious house by a spacious lake, in the south of Finland. Nina tilted her head slightly and looked in the direction of the window through which yellowish light shone. Her left eyebrow twitched slightly as she lightly suggested, "We could ring the bell."

The door almost ripped off its hinges, it had been through many things, but Natasha's kick was too much. "You do know how a doorbell works?" Natasha ignored Nina's remark and stepped through the now wide open gateway into the house.
"Natasha, that's trespassing!" shouted Nina after her from the doorway, not daring to take a step over the threshold. She sounded like an annoyed mother who had told her child yet another time not to stick her finger in the socket. Yelena shrugged, "Maybe they have macaroni and cheese." And she followed her sister into the house.
Nina heaved an annoyed sigh, stepped gingerly over the threshold, wiped her shoes on the doormat and closed the crooked door as best she could. The ringing of the doorbell pressed by Nina echoed softly.

 The anxious whimpering made her sit up and direct her steps into the kitchen. A small figure crouched on the corner bench and eyed the two burglars anxiously. Without paying attention to the old man, the two began to look through the kitchen cupboards, Yelena in search of macaroni and Natasha...
Natasha had to realise that vodka was probably not very popular with Finnish pensioners. Quietly and cursing in Russian, she rummaged through the - for her very disappointing - stock of alcohol. Bottles filled with cider, various kinds of beer and all kinds of other spirits were piled up on the table in front of the owner of the house, after Natasha had taken them all out of the cupboards and found them unsuitable. Standing in the doorway, she surveyed the proceedings for a brief moment. For a moment she wondered if it would be noticeable if she just went back out, took the jet and sat down, leaving the other two behind. Iceland would be a nice place to settle down.
Then her eyes fell on the man still huddled in the corner on the bench, presumably fearing for his life. By now absolutely unnerved, she stepped forward, into the middle of the room and spoke to the gentleman in a friendly voice. "Good afternoon, we are just passing through, I hope you don't mind us taking shelter with you." Dismayed, the man looked back and forth between her and the other two who were still ransacking the cupboards. "Oh, you'll have to excuse those two. But they're both quite harmless, believe me," she assured him.
She straightened up and turned to the two Russian women with a deadly glare. It took seconds before they both felt the burning gaze. Nina might as well have been pointing a machine gun at them, slowly they took their hands from the shelves - a large bottle of apple brandy in Natasha's - and held them so that Nina could see them. Not daring to make any quick movements, they turned to face her, their eyes fixed sheepishly on the tiled floor. A smug smile played around their lips. "As I said, quite harmless."

-
If someone were to look in the window, they would probably think the scene was nothing unusual. At least until he took a closer look. What the man saw were three young women, one of whom had kicked down his door and rummaged through his liquor stash. The other had not glanced at him and was cooking his supply of noodles.
The third had rung his doorbell, more or less trying to calm him down, only to spread a smorgasbord of weapons on his kitchen table.
Like two children who had just received the telling off of their lives, Nat and Yelena sat on the bench at the table and made no sound. Yelena had had her noodles after all and was trying to chew as quietly as possible. Natasha had declared it unnecessary to wait for the host to bring her a Shot glass. A warning look from Nina, which she received as soon as she raised the bottle to her lips, made her at least reach for a cup. With each refill she received a warning look.
Nina sat at the table, various knives spread out in front of her, and considered. "Tell me, have you ever noticed anything strange in this area?" The old man had sat down on one of the chairs at the table at Nina's reassuring words, also not daring to move. Now he looked up in a slight panic, his gaze fell on the knives and he quickly shook his head. "Too bad, they really know how to stay unseen." Lost in thought, he played with the smallest of the knives.