DAYWALKER | n.romanoff ✔

TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE
' YOUR    FIRST   
LESSON. '

Oswin slowly opened her eyes, blinking away the blurriness brought by sleep. She lifted her head, her gaze falling on a sleeping Natasha and Zeus. The dog in question raised his head with her movement, his jaw opening in a happy pant as his tail began to wag.

'Hey, bud,' she whispered, her voice husky from sleep. She pulled the covers away from her, glancing at Natasha as she wrinkled her nose slightly. Oswin rose to her feet, moving to a wardrobe and letting her eyes flicker over the contents. She pulled out a pair of baggy jeans and a large graphic t-shirt. Moved over to the ensuite, she disappeared inside.

When she left the bathroom, her nightclothes in her grip, she leaned against the door frame with a smile on her features. Natasha sat on the bed, roundhousing with Zeus, a grin on her face. The large dog let out low grunts as he pawed at her face, his tail wagging profusely. Oswin's eyes flickered to the redhead's dishevelled features and half-lidded eyes. The two noticed her at the same time, and they paused.

Oswin raised her eyebrow. 'Don't let me stop your fun.' She kicked off the frame and grabbed her helmet, sliding it over her head. Zeus let out two loud barks, hopping off the bed and running towards her. The two females shushed him, the dark-haired woman lowering to a crouch to greet him. Oswin smiled before straightening and moving to the door. 'See you downstairs, Princess.' She winked before pulling the door open and following Zeus down the stairs. As they reached the bottom, they moved to the kitchen. Zeus trotted to the back door, where Oswin let him out before she shifted to face the table.

Rogers shifted in his seat, looking up from the newspaper open in front of him. 'Morning,' he greeted.

'Alright,' she replied.

'Ye ken, ah muckle prefer this jimmy. He doesn't read th' paper juist tae fin' places tae bomb,' Mr McDonald spoke from his place opposite the super-soldier.

Oswin raised her eyebrow. 'How dare you,' she drawled emotionlessly. She moved to the counter and began to pour herself a coffee. 'But I wouldn't expect anything less. You guys are practically the same age. How does it feel to bond with somebody close to your age, Rogers?'

He rolled his eyes in response before continuing to read the paper.

'Och, Oswin. Ah hae a horse that needs rehooving. Noo ye'r back, pat yersel' tae some guid uise.'

'Haven't you taught Xander to do it, yet?'

'A'm tae auld fur that keech,' he replied, getting to his feet and leaving through the back door.

Rogers looked up at her once Mr McDonald left, letting out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his eyes. 'How do you understand that?' he asked exasperatedly.

Oswin raised her eyebrow, taking a sip of her coffee. 'I'm fluent in thirty languages, Rogers, and I've known Mr Mac since I was twenty-three.'

'And you still have no tact,' Natasha spoke, moving into the kitchen.

'Maybe, but it's good cause people know when they're about to die,' Oswin replied.

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Oswin wore a pair of thick leather trousers over her original ones, a horse's hoof between her knees. She cut away the excess hoof with a pair of nippers and a furrow in her brow. Her hair was white and wrapped under clean film, which covered her head. Her helmet was discarded on the table by a set of tools. Letting out a heavy piece of air through her nose, she let the horse's foot go and moved back to the table to grab a file. She paused, looking up with her forehead still wrinkled in concentration.