The Black Widow’s Bite by Jeannine Hall Gailey

        It’s a pain in the ass to abandon         his meal, even if the guy tastes          like absolute crap and he’s    90         percent sure he’s not going to          be able to keep it down. Blood is          blood and its kinder than the          alternative. 

        The alternative being the woman           that stands before him. Oddly at           ease with the [ bewildering ] situation          she’s facing. 

                       ”     You’re not gonna pull a gun on me? ‘Cause that’s usually how this goes. That and         screaming. People tend to…scream.”

             " do you want me to pull a gun on you?                                             -------- don't answer that. "

natasha presses painted lips together in an unyielding and weary line, shifting her fingers higher up the clasp of her hips and squaring her shoulders.

either this guy was some strange variation of a cannibal, a vampiric wannabe, or she had legitimately just walked up on a vampire.

         " i don't really see any reason to,                at least not yet.

           what were you doing? and don't            give me a bullshit answer. "

“You hold up to your reputation rather well, Miss Romanoff.”

       " which reputation are we talking about?              if it's the one where i'm cute, well -- -              i try. "

          ❝ Hilarious. When that happens                  I’ll be sure to let you know.                  I’ll request you as my personal                  caretaker since you’re so concerned. ❞

         " i think it's safe to say neither of               us want that, unless you're               vying for me to give you a sponge               bath in your old age. "

TJ Hammond + his butt

Dan Chaon, Among the Missing

     Placing the remaining treats on a napkin, Jimmy takes the proffered sugar and tips it in response to her own toasting before popping the lid of his coffee and dumping it in.

            ❝No problem.❞

     While he had paid far more attention to the sugar content of this drink, he lifts his gaze to her hum and can’t help a small chuckle of amusement. It seemed even with a woman that looked like she ate men for a living, she couldn’t escape her sweet tooth.

                      ❝Well, Natasha, I’m pretty sure once one person has already given up their name, a lot of the mystery is gone. Although I do have to say your title is very impressive. I’m glad the worse of my punishment was bribing you with a name and cake pops.❞

            "you got off easy, trust me."

   natasha finishes the cake pop in a couple measured bites and sets the bare stick on the napkin, near immediately plucking up a second pop and busying herself with nibbling on it.

            "what can i say -- - they're a guilty pleasure."

   she sets the cake pop aside, and, with a thoughtful hum, reaches to grab a packet of sugar. she empties the entirety of the packet into her coffee and takes a delicate sip, brow knit in concentration. after a few seconds of what appeared to be very serious thought, she dumps half of a second packet into the coffee.

            "so, jimmy. your integrity after the coffee mishap has been slightly bettered, but i think you can do better. wow me. what are you doing in a starbucks in the middle of the day looking like you haven't slept in days?"            

                  “That’s actually the first one I watched. You can thank Broadway for it.”

            He wasn’t exactly prepared for it. Paused the movie for almost an hour, even, because of how off-guard it managed to catch him. There’s a roll of his eyes at the look in the redhead’s eye.

                  “— that mean I can call you Ariel?”

   if she's disappointed, she does a mighty good job     of not showing it. okay, so maybe she didn't have     the opportunity to witness bucky barnes     crying over an animated lion -- - but she supposes she'll live.

                "only if i can call you gaston."

   he's significantly less top heavy and even more     significantly less arrogant, but it was the first disney     character she'd remembered off the top of her head barring scar.     (and she feels like he wouldn't appreciate that nickname, all things considered.)

”..that’s brilliant.”

            " thanks. i was top of my class.                                    ----   i think. "

+3 came to the golden city

❝Did you need help finding something?❞

                " -- - do you know where the nearest                         place to buy frozen yogurt is? "

                              ‘ i don’t know what that is. ’

               poptarts. the word’s unfamiliar, and arya answers                     hesitantly ; wondering, privately, if this awkwardly                     expressed ignorance is another product of her                     relatively sheltered upbringing — that is, in the                     period of time where her parents still had any                     say in what she did or didn’t eat. they’d certainly                     never have fed her anything that came out of what                     looked an awful lot like tin foil, and since then it’d                     been only what fruit, vegetables, bread, occasional                     processed meat or cheese if she was lucky, she                     could steal and still fly under the radar.

               shrugging a bony shoulder, she shakes her head                     at the latter offer — though it’s more so stubbornness                     and pride that leads her to refuse, than any sense of                     modesty or civility.

                              ‘ i'm fine. ’ a pause. ‘ thank you. ’

             "you've never had poptarts before?"

  natasha only hesitates for a heartbeat before she tears the plastic wrap and plucks one of the poptarts from within, brandishing it in her opposite hand. she replaces the wrapped poptart back in her handbag and extends the one poptart into the girl's full view, allowing her a better look. she breaks off a corner of the poptart and places it into her mouth, making a show of chewing and swallowing.

             "they're frosted. really sweet -- - and not poisoned. see?"

  she breaks off another bite and eats it, then offers the mostly intact poptart a second time. she'd start of small -- - she wasn't going to try and force the kid to do something she didn't want, but she definitely wasn't going to let her just sit out here in the heat. (especially considering she didn't have anywhere else to go.)

black widow + gear

Of course he could argue, state that zombies were nothing more than a nuisance of rotting flesh and echoes; a transparent situation that was by all means exhausting, so very far from angels. Nevertheless, he allowed the comment to slide, though shaking his head in a wordless,  albeit humored, disapproval.

           He watched her and her drink;            the gaze a simple tell of pure            boredom— he couldn’t blame            her; sitting around a coffee shop            would get boring, though an effective            means of a once-evasion.

                                 ”Of course I have a name—”                          As though there was a bizarre                         possibility that he wouldn’t,                         brows  furrowed at the woman                         and the slow cease of tiny nose                         wrinkles.

                                            “Clarence; you are mistaken as well.                                              I have never worked in an office cubicle;                                              they do not appear to be a very comfortable                                              work setting for any member of the human                                              population.

                                — What are you called?”

           "it's a wonderful life, huh?"

  considering the guy's utter lack of ability to understand sarcasm from literality and the lack of recognition to nearly all purposefully slipped references, she's certain he's not going to understand this one. still -- - she knows when she's been given a fact that's not entirely true, and it's not hard to pick up on the fact that he'd deliberately avoided his actual name.

  she mulls over telling him her actual name with another steady sip, prolonging it to allow her more time to think. finally, with a decisive press of her mouth -- -.

           "natalie. it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, clarence."

  if she puts a pointed emphasis on the name he had given her, well -- - he'd have to pick up on social cues eventually, right?