Faina shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, as she slowly turned back around. The only indication that Romanova’s words had an impact, was a gentle pink color at the tips of her ears. Her face otherwise remained stoic, impassive. After all, why should it not? Her instructions were matter of fact, nothing she did not know about already – just never quite put into those terms before.
“Is that an order?” she asked, quietly. Faina did not know exactly what Romanova’s recommendations would change, it did not seem like it was going to make any sort of quantifiable difference in her life. It would not make her stronger, faster, better adapted to protect herself in this unfamiliar set of circumstances she found herself in.
Even though months had passed her by, she still felt like an infiltrator in this world – foreign and alien, filled with people going about their daily lives with no understanding of the world behind the curtain.
Natasha allowed the soft huff to escape her, evenly holding Faina’s gaze as she finally met hers again. Another sip of her coffee, and only then, a reply. “If you want orders, you’ll need to find someone else. I told you, what you do with it, is entirely up to you.”
The mug of coffee found its way on to the table and Natasha leaned back in her chair. James should have been back by now from his breakfast trip, but she knew that he wasn’t simply meant that he gave them a little time to sort this out.
“You wanted to know why I enjoy having sex with James. I needed to learn too why people think it’s such a big deal.” Her voice softened a little then, sympathy stemming from her own memories. “It was a suggestion. Allow yourself the courage to find out who you are, what you want, not who they told you to be. You deserve that, just like anyone does.”
