𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡. 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗙𝗙

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"All promises are big."

Promises meant attachments—it meant giving your word to someone and keeping it under every circumstance.

Promises were important.

But, promises were also dangerous. Natasha would be compromised.

"Not if you make them reasonable. For example, I promise to go to the Canteen at least twice a week."

"Truth—"

But the other assassin held up a hand.

"And I promise to only do what I'm willing to do." She took her eyes off the road again to glance at Natasha. "And, I'm willing to do that, not only because you asked, but because I want to do it for myself."

Weak, Natalia. The weak ones will break. You must be unbreakable.

Defiance was never an option. Attachments made you breakable. And those who break, die.

But I am made of marble, Natasha reminded herself. And pain only makes you stronger.

"I promise to try," Natasha said, her voice heavy.

"I promise to be patient," Truth replied softly.

Natasha glanced at the other woman, unable to detangle the jumble of thoughts in her head.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

there's this movie that I think you'll like
this guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City
this cowboy's running from himself
and she's been living on the highest shelf.

"What are you thanking me for?" Truth questioned.

For being you, Natasha thought.

"For this. You didn't have to. You still don't."

Then Truth smiled.

"I want to. And it's a family tradition."

"What is?"

"The Castello D.C. Tour."

Natasha raised a brow.

"What does that mean?"

Truth turned on her left blinker as she began to sing along with the radio.

lady, running down to the riptide
taken away to the dark side
i wanna be your left-hand man

"Does that mean you'll tell me where we're going?"

i love you when you're singing that song
and I got a lump in my throat
'cause you're gonna sing the words wrong