I lose the joys of life. (For speaks_latin)

[thehawkinhisnest]

Warning: Will contain violence.

Clint fiddles with his cufflink, looking away from the window overlooking the street below. This is the last step of a mission he's been working for the last two weeks, and while he's as anxious as ever for it to be over, there's no sense of victory on the horizon. He's used to that with these missions, of knowing that once he's finished, he'll feel a sense of accomplishment, of having something to be proud of. But no matter how hard he tries, he just wants this one to be over.

He's supposed to kill a child.

Not really, of course. The girl (The Black Widow. Natalie. Natalia.) is only a few years younger than him - their intel says she is actually eighteen, though he's wondered about that in the time he's been watching her this week, while he decided the best way to play this, while his contacts set up this meeting. Natalia was his date to a dinner for some rich assholes this evening, and the longer the night goes on, the more certain he becomes that he can't go through with this. She's a killer, has taken out more targets than S.H.I.E.L.D. can actually keep up with - but he sees more when people don't know he's watching. He's seen the black cars and men that dog her heels, and the looks she gives them when she thinks no one's watching aren't to reassure herself that they're there. He's seen her steel herself before she talks to them, before she came up to meet up, tonight, and they all paint a picture different than the one in her file.

He has weapons hidden nearby, should be hiding one of them on himself now while Natalia freshens up in the bathroom - he doesn't want to think about why she thinks she needs to freshen up, she's a child and not even one allowed to make her own decisions - but he can't. He can't do it.

But he has to, and he finally takes his hand away from his sleeve, turning to find the closest handgun, to tuck it away as the sound of water stops in the bathroom and the door opens, to school his own expression and posture back into the relaxed, confident swagger this cover requires, to let himself leer a little when he turns to face her.

Another hour, and this will be done.

Comments

[speaks_latin]

"Agreed." A beat. "Though, I still don't think we should let emergency services be the ones to bring us out." Mostly because she expects James might be waiting, to see if the fire team clearing the building finds them. Again, maybe she's overthinking it, but it's what she'd do, and she really doesn't want some poor civilian, thinking they're doing a good deed, delivering them straight into James's hands.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint nods agreement. "If we don't run into your friend, we might run into mine." And while he's less worried about S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to hurt either of them, while it might not be the worst thing that could happen, he'd rather they got away on their own so he can call Coulson and make his case on his own terms with some distance between them.

It's not that he doesn't trust his employers, but he's pretty sure it's only smart to not trust everyone. There's always the potential for a mole or someone with a vendetta against her of their own.

[speaks_latin]

"So, find somewhere to hide out, until they're gone, and then head for the nearest exit?" It'll probably be smart to wait a few minutes, even after they leave, for the crowd to break up and James or Clint's people to lose interest, but. That's still the gist of the plan. Maybe they can find something for Clint's side, while they're looking for a place to hunker down, too.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Works for me," he agrees. "Might be a good time to find that utility closet or crawl space we were discussing earlier."

[speaks_latin]

"Might want to start checking the bathrooms, then." That seems the most likely place to find a crawl space, this high up. "One of the rooms in the middle." With only one exterior wall, any crawl space they find, this high up, likely to be in an interior one, and somewhere near the center, to hide where the plumbing branches off to all the other rooms.

[thehawkinhisnest]

They might also have some luck near the elevator. While the actual control room is likely at ground level, nicer hotels tend to leave space around the elevator so no one has to listen to it all night.

"Wanna head up a couple more and then find something?" he proposes, just to give themselves a little more distance.

[speaks_latin]

Or that, yes.

"Probably a good idea," she agrees. Better safe than sorry and all that. And that in mind, as they reach the stairwell leading up, she pulls the door open and gestures Clint inside. He can decide how high up he feels like going; she's not the injured one.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Despite Clint's denial and assertion that he's fine, he heads up the stairs at a slower pace than normal, even if he can wave it off as deferring to her shorter stride if asked about it. He does go up a couple of flights, too, before he stops at a door to carefully pull it open - and, when he doesn't get jumped, opens it the rest of the way and holds it for her. "Let's see what we can find," he says quietly, wary of his voice carrying in the stairwell.

[speaks_latin]

As he did before her, Natasha waits until Clint clears the immediate area on the other side of the door. When he seems satisfied, she slips past him, does a quick once-over of the hallway, herself, and then glances back to him as she heads down it, looking for anything that stands out as a utility closet or likely place for a crawlspace, as they go.

"We might have to start checking rooms," she notes, putting words to what went through her head a few minutes before. What she wouldn't give for a blueprint of this place.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint hums an agreement. "Be real nice if we had a map of the place right now," he unknowingly echoes under his breath, heading back toward the elevator to follow his earlier suggestion of there being closets or extra space around it.

[speaks_latin]

"I was just thinking the same thing," she admits, one corner of her mouth quirking upwards in a hint of a smile she can't really help. It fades just as quickly as it came. "Don't suppose you have something in your bag of tricks that might help with that?"

Maybe he has some way of finding them that doesn't involve searching the offices downstairs, for what little good even that would do them. She doubts the blueprints are here. They're probably in a county office, somewhere.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"I might be able to dig them up online if we had time, but I'm a little afraid we don't have that much time," he tosses back. Yeah, it looks like they've lost James for now, but he really doesn't want to push their luck by standing around while he tries to dig it up.

"I know it's a thing in the States: you know if these rooms have the fire maps on the backs of the doors?"

He didn't notice in any of the other rooms he's been in in this hotel, his mind on other parts of this mission.

[speaks_latin]

"Contrary to popular American belief, we're not barbarians," Natasha shoots back, more teasing than actually offended. What she's getting at, either way, is that, yes, the rooms here have emergency plan maps on the backs of the door, and regardless, that in mind, she heads for one of the rooms, hoping to break in, to find such a map.

[thehawkinhisnest]

He makes a face back at her while he follows her to a room. It doesn't take them any longer to break into the room up here as it did before, and he steps past her so she can close the door, so they can check the map. It might not give them everything, but at least they'll know where there's more likely to be dead space.

"How's it look?"

[speaks_latin]

"I'm guessing there's a utility closet, near the elevator," she says, glancing back at him from where she's leaned in to inspect the map. There are also crawlspaces in the rooms near there, too, but. His instinct was just as right as hers was and might actually serve better.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Wanna try the closet? Rescue's not likely to be looking in those for any stragglers, at least."

This high up, the staff should all be accounted for by the time any fire squads get this high, and they wouldn't have much reason to be looking for guests in them.

If they're really lucky, James won't bother himself trying to sneak around the rescue squads, but Clint's not traditionally that lucky.

[speaks_latin]

"Probably the better option, now that we know there is one," she decides, taking a half-step away from the door to pull it open again. Not that she immediately steps out, instead taking a second to clear the hallway all over again, just in case. Thankfully, it seems just as empty as before, and satisfied, only then does she start heading for the closet.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint follows along after her again, after she clears the hall, as they make their way toward the elevator and the closet she found on the map. Once they get there, he huffs out a wry breath. "Now it's getting creepy how quiet it is."

[speaks_latin]

"Like a horror movie," she agrees. Not that she's actually ever seen one, but the general idea behind them was covered as part of her training. It wouldn't do for her to slip up like that, if and when it came up in small talk, after all. She needed amusing anecdotes to tell -- like that one time her and the rest of her old company snuck away from their chaperones, before a performance, to see whatever was playing in the closest theatre.

[thehawkinhisnest]

Clint hums an agreement, sliding into the closet and looking around for somewhere to position himself in case someone does try to check it for people. There's likely room behind the door for her, but he's going to have to pretend he's smaller than he is to get into a good position to be hidden.

Not that he can't do it, but it's going to take him a little more effort.

"If I say the next line, though, I'll end up jinxing us. Assuming I haven't already."

[speaks_latin]

"So don't," she tells him. Despite that, though, she shoots him a sour look as she molds herself into the space behind the door. Clearly, she already thinks he has jinxed them, just by thinking it.

[thehawkinhisnest]

"Lips are sealed," he agrees - and then makes good on that, considering a shelving unit. He reaches out and shakes it, determining how sturdy it is - and then, when he seems happy with that, reaches up to a higher shelf so he can pick his feet up off the ground - and then slide through the side of the unit. It takes him a moment to walk his hands back down the shelves, nudging things out of his way carefully so he doesn't knock anything off the shelves -- and when he finally pulls his hands in, he's nearly completely hidden behind the supplies on the shelf.

[speaks_latin]

Natasha watches him, once again impressed by his flexibility, but doesn't say anything. She remains silent even once he's settled, wary of talking now, as it's only a matter of time before someone's up to check this floor. She's not wrong, either -- a few minutes later, there's the sound of voices out in the hall, footsteps following as they get closer. She shifts slowly, pushing herself further into her corner as they approach, and waits. It doesn't take long until they're fading again, but while finally, she turns her attentions back to Clint, she remains silent. Better to give it another few minutes, in case they come back this way.

[thehawkinhisnest]

The only acknowledgement of the people passing is a quieting of his breathing as they pass, as the closet goes even more silent for the moment. He's fine where he is, though - one more benefit of his skillset is that he can remain still and silent in even uncomfortable places and positions if it means he can keep his eye on a target.

[speaks_latin]

A good thing, too, considering Natasha continues to make them wait for quite some time, after, and rightfully so. She's not sure how much time has passed, by that point, but sooner or later, the footsteps come and go again as the people they belong to presumably head back down, their search complete. Natasha counts out another handful of seconds after she can't hear them over the sound of her breathing, however faint, anymore.

"I think we're good," she says, softly, when she's satisfied.