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"Who the hell are you?" The Widow stared at the archer.
The archer stared at the Widow. Finally, he asked very, very quietly, "Who are you?"
She flinched back from him for a long moment, then stepped forward and caught his jaw in her hand. He let her. How did he know to ask that? She could see the knowledge in his eyes that she could kill him without breaking a sweat if he let her get this close.
"Natalia," she said at last. This one knew her like none of the men at that base had and he wouldn't be killed as easily either. "Your name?" she asked coolly.
He breathed in slowly, not at all shaky but very aware that she was still gripping him threateningly. "The last time you introduced yourself that way I was Hawkeye."
He stared into her gaze with an intensity that made her catch her own breath at last and hesitate for just a fraction of a second.
She dropped her hand to her side. "I don't trust you."
"You didn't then either." His reply was easy, comfortable; he knew what ground he was standing on now, but he wasn't smiling. It would irritate her if he was.
Natalia sighed and started down the sidewalk. Her hands were clean now and her clothes new, but she still knew nothing at all except that she had woken in a holding cell, restrained and shaking with interrogation drugs, she had fought her way out, and it was easy because she had been a weapon for a very long time.
"I will buy you lunch then and you can tell me about the last time." It wasn't a request, but he didn't seem to mind.