𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{4⁸} {VIENNA}

"Excuse me, Miss Ryder, Miss Romanoff?" A voice piped up from their left, and Roxi found herself stopping even though she didn't really want to when she found that it was one of the UN workers - also dressed in a suit - with a clipboard in hand.

"Yes?" Natasha's reply was immediate, and far more coherent than anything that Roxi felt would fall out of her own mouth in the moment. She was suddenly intensely grateful that Natasha knew how to operate under the pressure of her own nerves far better than Roxi would ever be able to.

"These need your signature." Roxi signed on the dotted line - it was not the Accords - as illegibly as she could. While she had never included her first name in her signature, she had found it finny to see people - mainly Tony, when he hadn't known - try to figure it out by staring at her messy squiggles on sheets of paper, and come up with even more completely random guesses that were never anywhere close to her real name.

"Thank you." The worker scurried away as Roxi attempted to crease the corner of her suit, to purposefully annoy Tony when he watched the footage back. It was petty, but Roxi was angry, and betrayed, and she didn't want to hurt him in such a way that she would break their friendship forever.

"I suppose none of us is used to the spotlight." Another voice spoke up, this time from Roxi's right, as a man she recognised as Prince T'Challa of Wakanda joined the two women as they revelled in their nerves, trying not to let themselves get too caught up in the extravagant workings of their minds. They'd both always had complex minds, though in entirely different way. Natasha's first layers were built of fear - of the people who had raised her - and the lessons that those people had put there. They still affected Natasha so harshly to this say that Roxi wished that there was a way for her to take out all of that programming, to just allow Natasha to be the pretty, forward, skilled, warm woman who she always seemed so comfortable to be around Roxi. Roxi's first layer of mindset was the same. A fear that she had buried many, many years ago as she tried to rid her mind of the ghosts of her past, most of which should've been dead several times over if they had gone through the same pain that Roxi had. Then there was the desperation, the terror that had accompanied her like a dear friend through so many years. From her couple of months on the streets to around four years into her SHIELD career. Then there had been the need to improve, to strive to be the best, which had strengthened and weakened in fantastic wavering motions throughout her next five years at SHIELD. It had only been then that she'd truly learned the importance of keeping her emotions private and close to her, behind a wall - or beneath a trapdoor - that nobody else could get to, because even if you managed to undo all the locks, the weight of them would prevent you from opening either door.

"Oh, well, it's not always so flattering." Despite her screaming nerves, Roxi felt required to say something, so she added on

"Of course, sometimes if can be anything put," in the strongest voice she could muster in the moment, feeling her body begin to loosen and relax as she became more accustomed to her surroundings. She would be able to concentrate on the matter at hand well enough, and much more effectively if Natasha was next to her, helping to ground her.

"You seem to be doing alright so far. Considering your last trip to Capitol Hill, I wouldn't think you would be particularly comfortable in this company." T'Challa's accented voice carried through the tense bustle of the room, seeming to somehow register just louder than everything else, so that it was at the perfect volume. It was slightly odd, the offset of volume, and it made something flash behind Roxi's eyes as another padlock was snapped closed on the trapdoor. Not here, not today, not this week, not this month. She couldn't afford to lose her stability while all attention was on the Avengers, especially at such a large, prominent event such as this one.