𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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As much as she'd teased, the words had made her emotional once she'd boarded the jet headed toward the insertion point. She'd searched for validation her whole life, and the little girl inside of her had finally found it.

She didn't usually take the knife out on missions, but last night had been a quick infiltration with a STRIKE team on an illegal smuggling site. No causalities on either side, all stolen weapons had been accounted for, and all criminals involved in the operation were apprehended and set to stand on trial for the next few months.

Yeah. She was pretty proud of herself.

you're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset
she's going off about something that you said
'cause she doesn't get your humor like i do

With a quirk of her lips, she gently wrapped the newly sharpened knife in its leather sheath. Before she moved on to her next blade, she took a spoonful of the bowl of soup sitting away from the oils and polish. Satisfied with the temperature, she took a few more bites as she hummed along.

i'm in the room, it's your typical Tuesday night
i'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like
and she'll never know your story like i do

but she wears—

Truth dropped her spoon in the bowl with a clang to give her cat an offended glare.

"Heidi! No puedes saltarte una canción de Taylor Swift."
You can't just skip a Taylor Swift song.

Heidi responded by skipping another song.

"Heidi!"

Truth moved, intending to revoke Heidi's phone privileges when the cat laid down, curving her body around the device and out of Truth's sight.

Truth huffed.

"You hang out with Michael too much."

It took a few more minutes of arguing with her cat as she worked before she noticed someone had been standing outside her door for a while now. She had dismissed them at first, because she was used to people coming and going down the hall, most of them heading home after a long day or leaving to fulfill a mindless task. She never fretted over them because, in there, she was in her safe little bubble where she could keep the world out.

Only, the person outside her door hadn't moved. Well, they paced up and down the corridor, but they always returned, always stopped in front of her door. Mental barriers kept their exact thoughts hidden, but Truth could feel the anxiety and nerves bubbling within them even from here.

And, thoughts or not, Truth would recognize her mind anywhere. Only, Truth couldn't begin to guess why Natasha Romanoff would be standing outside of her apartment...

Glancing at the clock on the wall behind her, Truth realized it was almost noon.

Almost four hours since Clint left.

...Shit.

It wasn't so much that she'd forgotten, because she remembered her conversation with the archer quite clearly. He had been worried before he left, enough so that he had knocked on her door on his way to his jet.