Probably the least said of any promises the better, really.
When Natasha walks out of the cells, she has a bag of her things (his care package and the books had Moist lent her). Her yellow jacket is slung over an arm, and she looks...
Tired.
(The lankness of her hair isn't helping, no matter that she has it braided.)
She scans the room, notices him and smiles, and keeps scanning until she's done a circuit. No sign of James, which she's not sure if she could be concerned or not about. Well. Fuck him.
Resolutely shoving the question of the Magically Disappearing Ex out of her immediate concern, she walks over to Clint's table.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-12-30 07:16 am (UTC)When Natasha walks out of the cells, she has a bag of her things (his care package and the books had Moist lent her). Her yellow jacket is slung over an arm, and she looks...
Tired.
(The lankness of her hair isn't helping, no matter that she has it braided.)
She scans the room, notices him and smiles, and keeps scanning until she's done a circuit. No sign of James, which she's not sure if she could be concerned or not about. Well. Fuck him.
Resolutely shoving the question of the Magically Disappearing Ex out of her immediate concern, she walks over to Clint's table.
"Hey."