Fears of the Widow

Fancy Munich

"Kann ich Ihren Mantel verpasst haben, nehmen?" A well dressed young waiter stood at the front door of Phantasie, and looked between Clint and Natasha.

"Thank you," Natasha slid her coat off and handed it to the gentlemen waiting on them. Clint held his arm out for her, and she slipped her arm through his, holding onto him tightly. The ride over had made her a little nauseous and then someone had bumped her arm on the way in. Standing up was really hard and so was keeping her German accent up. Clint seemed fine except his accent sucked. No offense.

Clint carefully moved Natasha across the room and around the mobsters and other criminals eating at 'Fancy Munich' on this night.

"I feel like they'll recognize us," Nat whispered to Clint, her "fiancé" for the night.

Clint pulled her chair out at their designated table and allowed her to sit before returning to his side of the adorned piece of wood and ordering two spicy red wines. Their waiter, a short, fat man with a plastered grin hiding his fear, nodded without hesitation before scurrying into the kitchen.

Clint turned back to Natasha, "you're a business lady with prior drug dealing, and I'm a furniture millionaire trafficking illegal drugs all across the world. I don't think we have to worry about sticking out here. We are pitiful compared to these other people anyways. The front desk man had three pending murder charges against him in Bulgaria." And Clint was right. The people around them were famous criminals, drug dealers, murderers, thieves. But isn't this where Natasha belonged? At least that's what Loki had said. She lied in the presence of liars, stole in the presence of thieves, and killed by demand of murderers. Maybe The Hawk and Widow theme fit in here better than they would like to think.

Some mobsters crowded at a table across the room, and one had his eyes plastered on Nat. She picked up her menu and frowned in his direction, and after a good while he stood up and left through some back hallway.

"Lina, dear," Clint waved his hand in front of Nat's face, and she turned to him, startled, "what?" She snapped, her teeth gritting together.

"The waiter needs your order," he pointed towards the sweating little gentleman who nodded roughly. He must have realized how dangerous everyone here was, and if she were him Nat would be a tad but nervous too. Well... If she didn't have weapons, which the poor little guy didn't.

Nat grunted, "so sorry, Sauerkraut and Brotwurst," she relayed her order in German, and picked up the glass of wine in front of her.

Ever since they had entered the restaurant a buzz had been all they could hear in the SHIELD ear pieces, and Clint's AFIS cam didn't work. Apparently the restaurant was being jammed. With no contact to the outside, Nat and Clint were on their own, but Tony and Bruce would find a way to get through the jammed radio waves. They always did.

The waiter returned with bread and dip as well as two waters. Natasha downed her glass as soon as she touched it, and Clint politely filled it back up like a true gentleman.

"Seen him yet?" Clint finally groaned.

"No Andrius, I haven't," Nat peered around the room carefully before seeing two heavily armed guards sitting at a table near the restrooms. Perhaps that was Zarcov being guarded by his big fellows.

Clint groaned, "See something you like, sweetheart?"

"I have to take a leak," Nat grinned before standing up and walking across the restaurant towards the bathrooms. She had to gain his attention somehow. Make him notice her. Act uninterested. Be provocative. Do something.

Suddenly the static in her ear piece cleared away, and Fury's voice boomed into her ear, "can you two hear us now?" He sounded impatient and annoyed.