A THOUSAND LIVES ▹ N. Romanoff

THREE. in which rumors only grow

[ A THOUSAND LIVES ]
chapter three; in which rumors only grow

❝ Sit down, Lady Natasha.
Just not on the foil-wrapped delicacies. ❞

"MISS ROMANOFF," Evelyn greets casually. Natasha looks up from her margarita. Her formerly-neutral expression soon transitions into a face of irritation. "Miss Carlson." She speaks with a curtness that would scare most people off. Evelyn, however, continues.

"How much have we missed?" Evelyn asks like she doesn't notice Natasha's annoyance. "As much as you would expect." Natasha's answers are short, unkind. Every word and every look hides a message; go away.

Evelyn opts to ignore it.

"How fun," The brunette chirps. "Miss Romanoff, rumor has it that you believe me to be a spy?"

"From who?" Evelyn knows Natasha's forming a reaction based on her response. Evelyn can't pause to think of a different name; Natasha would sense her hesitancy. "Tony. He claims that you've been going around and trying to persuade the team to find distrust in me," Evelyn orders a margarita when the bartender approaches her. "I assure you, Miss Romanoff, I'm nothing of the sort."

Her eyes meet Natasha's. Evelyn holds her stare; there seems to be some sort of... knowing in those deep brown eyes. Natasha feels her doubts slipping away for a fraction of a second. No, the woman before her can barely be considered a woman.

"I apologize for my brashness," Natasha internally beams; she has caught Evelyn off guard. The only giveaway is the way Evelyn's brow lifted for just a moment. "I suppose you understand, wanting to keep the people you like safe."

Like?

"Of course." Evelyn gives a short nod. "It makes complete sense."

"So," Natasha needs to see this "woman" crack. Every reaction is perfect, inhumanly so. "Speaking of people you love, is there a family back home?"

"Hm, there's a married couple I love very much in Essex," Evelyn feigns thoughtful thinking. "I call them 'Mom' and 'Dad.' Along with a Siamese named Biscuit."

Logically, Natasha knows she was just spoon-fed a lie. Still, a part of her still feels her distrust dissipating. Like Evelyn is the most truthful person to walk the earth. It's something about her kind yet flirty eyes, her pleasant smile, her relaxed body language. Nothing about Evelyn screams "I'm lying," but Natasha knows better than to believe that.

"Sounds very domestic," Natasha is carefully crafting her words, watching for each reaction from Evelyn. "What made you want to come work for Stark? He doesn't have the best rep, y'know."

"If I'm not mistaken, Miss Romanoff," Evelyn purrs. "I would guess that you're trying to interrogate me. What's next, do you want my social security?"

"Can't I be curious about the new addition?" Natasha shrugs passively. "I mean, I don't know much about you. No information, no background, nothing... almost as if there's no one to trust."