@vdova ; video

[waytodie]

[Her hair is in two messy twin braids. Her eyes are glassy. The sharp-eyed might notice she's probably, definitely drunk. The less-so might just assume she's overly tired. Her tongue presses into her cheek as she considers how to start this one, but in the end she just rips the bandaid off quickly: ]

So, tell me, how is it that you handle grief?

[She probably won't be elaborating on why she's asking, unless she has a certain level of familiarity with you, but you can try. People closest to her probably already know what this is really about: Her sister is gone. From Moorecroft. From Etraya. From the top side of the dirt. Gone and back to dead, and Yelena is spiraling.]

Comments

[westcoasts]

( it's the exact response clint would give if their roles were reversed and she'd declared she likes him, and it's — a little unsettling, if he's honest. are they similar? the question hangs unsaid, thought cut short when she says about nicer not being nice, and—

oh, thank fuck. that's not what he'd have gone with. )

By definition, if you're charming, you're likeable. ( he's just sayin'. ) What else is there to your ( finger quotes ) charm?

( pause. )

'Part from a lack of niceness.

[waytodie]

I think you can be charming and also be annoying. [She might just be arguing for the sake of it, or she might really believe that, Clint will never know.]

I have an excellent sense of humor.

[westcoasts]

( at that, clint leans back away from the feed, giving what he can see of yelena a very visible once-over, arms folded against his chest. there's a non-verbal mm? followed by an hmm— that sits in his expression, before— )

Cute. You gotta be cute in order to be charming and annoying. ( breath of a pause. ) I'd know.

And as for the rest of it, that you're gonna have to prove to me.

[waytodie]

Would you? [She challenges, arching one eyebrow at him with a little smirk on her face.]

Don't worry, Clint Barton, you will witness it all soon enough.

[westcoasts]

( the challenge earns a broad gesture as if to say 'look at me', then a grin. )

Is that a threat or a promise?

[waytodie]

[She just grins in response.] Why can’t it be both?

[westcoasts]

( touché. )

It can, I guess, but one implies a much more fun time than the other.

[waytodie]

I guess you will just have to find out which one it will be.

[Natasha may have thought he was the wrong Clint, but Yelena kind of likes him.]

[westcoasts]

( that earns a laugh, genuine and amused, softer than it'd be usually because— )

Good thing I like surprises.

( a fleeting, passing look of hesitation crosses his features, a glance away from the device like he's weighing something up. he'd almost said it earlier — or a variation of it — and then the conversation had become what it was. )

Yelena, I know what it's like to lose 'Tasha. ( the truth of it, the one that it's taken him this long to get to and to admit. even if it's tasha, not nat.

what he doesn't say is that he knows what it's like to live somewhere there's hope she'll come back, too. how long he'd spent in denial, even if he'd been right, there'd been no guarantee, not really. bucky had been right, he'd been hopeful, all because he didn't want to believe the alternative.

different, but not so different to here, where the dead don't say dead. it's uniquely cruel to bring someone here who'd just died, to dangle that hope in front of someone who has the right to process their loss. ) You ever need to work that out in person, now or in the future, with someone that—. ( pause. silence. abrupt.

"loved her."

that's not fair to say, because it wasn't yelena's natasha he loved. ) Understands, you let me know.

Meantime, I'd recommend some water.

( it's not quite a 'goodbye' or a 'goodnight' or a 'take care of yourself' or whatever, but it's close enough. maybe. )

[waytodie]

Lucky me. [She says with a grin.

There’s a little tonal shift as he makes his next statement and Yelena can feel it in the center of her chest as he continues.

The acknowledgment, and further still, the offer he extends makes her glad she’s already sitting down so no one can see anything more dramatic than a glance up toward the ceiling—

Beat.

—and back down again as she takes in a slow, deep breath, keeping a silent count in the back of her mind.

She tries to keep her voice steady, but if it wavers, she’d just deny it anyway. She nods a little and swallows, speaking to him when she can again.]
Thank you… I will keep that in mind, Clint Barton.

[She smiles, something soft and weak, but there all the same.]

I know how to prevent hangovers, but… thanks for the reminder, too.