—open log

[deaddrop]

CHARACTERS: Natasha+
LOCATION: various
DATE: post-mission
CONTENT: food, training, manicures
WARNINGS: tbd


Midnight Snack

[Is it really the middle of the night if you're in space? On the other hand, is it always sort of the middle of the night if you've been awake for twenty hours or so? Natasha has the sneaking suspicion it is, but she's not sleeping now either so she might as well be doing something.

Just now, something takes the form of rattling around in the kitchen. Hopefully anyone drawn to the sound isn't hoping for some homemade cooking through. At the moment, Natasha seems to be less cooking and more assembling. She has bread laid out and a knife, and presently she's rummaging through pantries and refrigerators for something to build a sandwich.

She's happy to make two, if anyone wants one.

Don't trust her not to lick the knife, though.]


Morning Workout

[In the training room:]

Interested in going a couple of rounds?

[Natasha stands by the benches dressed for a workout, tank top and flexible pants. She doesn't cut an especially intimidating figure; she's not tall, and while she's more fit than most people might clock at a glance, she's still a perfectly normal, fairly petite woman. A scar peaks out from under her sleeveless top, a bullet wound that's long since healed but left a pale, puckered mark. It's not her only one.

She stretches thoughtfully, not in any particular hurry. She's also not shy as she asks.]

More interesting than shadow boxing, at least.

[She rolls her shoulders, then shrugs.]


Killing Time

[Natasha is a thief. Not professionally, though stealing is certainly within her skill set. Today, the thievery is recreational. Natasha isn't even trying to hide it. She sits out in the common living area with her ill-gotten gains—a stash of nail polish she stole from her sister, Yelena.

Different colors are arranged in front of her. Most of them bright. Some with flecks of glitter or holo flecks in them. It's really quite the collection.

Natasha pushes away some of the neon colors, picking up a few of the more subdued darker or more neutral colors, before settling on a berry red and shaking the bottle.

She'll start painting her nails, absolutely shameless. Anyone who sits nearby might quickly find they become a target.]


Wildcard

[Don't see something you like? Let's do something else!]

Comments

Killing time

[laviny]

[Yelena wanders into the common area, sees Natasha and pauses, staring. She recognizes those polishes. She’s been collecting them for months.]

Did you take all of my nail polish?

[deaddrop]

How would I know that?

[Natasha doesn't look up from applying color to her thumbnail.]

It was all of it I could find.

[Did you have any more hidden away somewhere, sis?]

[laviny]

[This is literally them making up for not being teenagers together.]

You don’t need that much nail polish, though. Are you going to paint every nail a different color?

[Actually, Yelena would approve of that, but anyway.]

You don’t even like bright colors. Why take those?

[deaddrop]

I hadn't decided what color I wanted to use yet.

[Isn't that the obvious answer? Plus Natasha had wanted to have a look at the collection.

She can appreciate it this way.]

And I like bright colors just fine. In moderation.

[She tips her head toward the seat next to her in invitation.]

Killing Time

[savingthrows]

[ She slides into the seat opposite Natasha with narrowed eyes, a look of utter concentration and great focus on her face. She glances from Natasha's hair to her face to the nail polishes, then back up again.

And with the greatest sincerity and seriousness, voice only slightly too halting to be the diction a girl her age should have, Eleven declares: ]

You're pretty.

[deaddrop]

You think so?

[Natasha knows a little about girls who seem too serious and too focused for their ages. Between that and the fact this particular girl is here when Natasha's seen about zero other children and only even heard of one kid on the station leaves her with a pretty strong instinct that her childhood hasn't been normal.

That's okay. Natasha can handle that.

She sets down the nail polish she's using and starts picking through the other colors.]

We can do yours too, if you want?

[She holds out a bottle full of a vivid teal lacquer for the girl to inspect.]

[savingthrows]

[ Eleven's eyes go wide immediately, surprised and delighted as visible excitement settles in. Make up, nail polishes, nice dresses. Those are for pretty girls. They're things Eleven hasn't had for a long time, only recently starting to move away from Hopper's choice of second hand- oversized flannel.

She reaches for the bottle, then pauses. Dark brown eyes flick up at Natasha, weary for a moment, but then she sits up straight and starts looking resolved. ]

I think I like. Yellow. And purple.

[ She hesitates for a moment, then nods as if to reaffirm that herself. Offers: ]

I'm learning. What I like.

[deaddrop]

[Natasha studies the kid's face, her own expression hardly wavering. If there's a little tension around Natasha's eyes, a flicker at the corner of her mouth, it doesn't last long—and it never quite manifests into an emotional reaction.

She sets down the teal.]

Lucky for you, my sister is exactly the kind of person who has yellow nail polish. And purple.

[She pushes forward a couple of options in each color forward.]

midnight snack

[bossily]

[When Clara finally emerges to hit up the kitchen to get food, she makes sure to go late at night in hopes that no one else will be around. When she quietly creeps in and sees she's not alone, it doesn't bother her. But she does try to stay unnoticeable, just so she doesn't get in the way.

She has every intention of just grabbing what she needs for tea, and then going. But when she takes notice of the fact that Natasha seems to be actively looking for something, she relents and softly speaks up.]

People tend to put things away wherever there's space. No real rhyme or reason to it, most of the time.

[She pauses, abandoning her tea to move in closer. She sees the bread and knife and assumes sandwich, but that doesn't stop her from asking -]

What is it you looking for?

[deaddrop]

I'm not sure yet. But I figure it out when I find it.

[Natasha says it in a deadpan as she rummages, glancing up briefly.

Then, maybe a little more serious.]

I'd settle for peanut butter and jelly. Or a banana if there's one around.

[bossily]

Bananas are hard to come by.

[She admits that up front, but does make a note to ask Viveca for some next supply drop. It's hard being new to a place like the Ximilia, and Clara wouldn't mind surprising Natasha with some peanut butter and banana sandwiches at some point.]

Peanut butter, though. [She holds up a finger signaling for Natasha to wait a moment. She peeks into one of the cabinets down low, before popping back up with a big jar.]

Can you believe I never had it before coming here? I might've gone through a phase where I was addicted, and spent entirely too much time figuring out how to make my own.

[The jar is passed over, and she decides to get out a plate and a couple pieces of bread for herself.]

[deaddrop]

[Natasha smiles as she takes the jar, bouncing it in her palm once before she opens it.

It might be silly, but it's comfort food for her. And there's something reassuring about having something on hand that's easy, high in protein, and shelf stable.

She's had times she couldn't count on having food before.]

Perfect for a quick snack. [Worth learning about, in Natasha's opinion.] Probably eat it more often than an adult should, but here we are.

[In space.]

How'd it turn out homemade?

Morning Workout

[dichotomized]

[ Spock had intended to practice his Suus Mahna forms in the quiet space by himself, but when she approaches him, he gives her a thoughtful look. He knows much better than to judge anyone's abilities by their stature, but it still gives him pause. ]

Very well, though I should inform you that my people are stronger than humans.

[deaddrop]

[Natasha shrugs at that, then nods, still stretching her shoulder. Her eyes do flick to his ears, but she can't say she's bothered by it.]

It's just a spar. I don't think we should have too much trouble keeping things from getting too serious.

[And she has plenty of experience fighting with people stronger than her.]

Just to be sure we're on the same page, when you say stronger than humans, are we talking strong enough to lift a motorcycle or strong enough to lift a truck.

[dichotomized]

[ He tilts his head, thoughtful for a moment. It's a new question. ]

I do not believe I could lift a truck in any sense of the word. My strength is approximately four times the strength of what you might expect a human of my build to have and I have no problem holding back my blows with control. I merely wished to warn you that my biology is denser than it appears. I regularly spar with humans as I primarily work among them.

[deaddrop]

[It's relevant. Natasha nods as though his answer is just what she'd expect.]

I think I can work with that.

[Perfectly natural.]

Appreciate the warning, though. That might have been a nasty surprise.

[She shakes her braid back over her shoulder then gives another nod.]

All human, by the way. But I'm used to working with people bigger than I am.

midnight snack;

[spoilers]

[ For a Child of Time, River has always had a very poor sense of time as it relates to hours of the day. Now, timing, that's a different matter entirely. In any case, she hardly realizes it's nighttime when she makes her way into the (nearly) deserted kitchen. Glancing up at its other occupant, she gives a faint wave of her hand. ]

Don't mind me, sweetie. I think I'm starting to pick up my husband's habits. We've been around one another too long again.

[ Food or hats. All the man ever thinks about, she swears. ]

[deaddrop]

I don't know that I have any room to judge. Or to mind.

[Natasha finds a jar of what she thinks might be peanut butter. Or almond butter. Sunflower seed butter—are they allergy friendly on the station?

Doesn't really matter. It looks like it can go on bread, and that's the important part.]

I'm not in your way, am I?

[spoilers]

[ Rummaging through a nearby cabinet, River produces a bag of pretzels with some kind of honey glaze. Leaning back against a counter to snack, she glances in the other woman's direction. ]

Not at all. [ She gives the bag a light shake. ] Pretzel?

killing time;

[blackfire]

（ he has spoken with her once — as with yelena, there is something of like calling to like in her. it is strange, to know what of her history he does through yelena's memories, the little blue-haired girl of her childhood a striking, focal figure in what he had seen.

natasha, he is aware, grew into someone competent and dangerous in all the same ways yelena is competent and dangerous.

but rather than acting as a deterrent, it is more a lure for him. when he sees her set out with what he immediately recognizes as yelena's nailpolish collection, he drifts in close. his nails are not as badly off as they had been after taeum, but being in the water with the kaiju and with the total severance of chakra on his last mission has done a number on them nevertheless.

unbidden, he takes a seat opposite her, gesturing to the polish remover that's set out alongside the rest. ）

May I?

[deaddrop]

By all means.

[Should Natasha be sharing her sister's nail polish so freely? Probably not. On the other hand, who ever finished a bottle of nail polish anyway?

She'll get Yelena more the next time there's an opportunity to make up for it, if she takes it personally.]

There are plenty of colors to choose from. It'd be a shame to waste them.

[Her eyes flick from the colors available and back to Itachi, her expression casual but the look is measuring.]

You don't seem like a hot pink kind of guy, though.

[blackfire]

No.

（ he works the chipped polish off of his right hand with a dexterity that suggests he is equally comfortable using both in a dominant fashion, and as the cotton ball is increasingly saturated with old polish — ）

I know Yelena has a dark purple.

（ he has no real reason to assume that natasha stole it — most siblings, after all, are generally somewhat willing to share. ）

killing time

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

...And I thought my collection was excessive.

[The gangster said as he walked by and paused at the sight of all the nail polish. At home he had a pretty large collection of nail polish and cosmetics of various purposes. Here at the station it was considerably smaller but still a little overboard by some standards. It helped that not only did he collect and request the items, but his boyfriend(s) did as well--and gave them to him, sweet considerate things that they were.

This, however, was much more than he had managed to collect so far. It was impressive.]

[deaddrop]

I can't take credit for it. My sister did all the work.

[Natasha might take her sister's things, but she doesn't take all of the credit.

She does have her standards.

She studies the newcomer from shoes to hair, her gaze passing over him in a measured sweep.]

Maybe the two of you can compare sometime.

[essenceofdeadlybeasts]

Oh? You have family here?

[Someone needs to catch him up on the fact that Yelena has a sister and that this is her. All he remembers is she likes puppies a whole lot. Like, a whole whole lot.

His expression turns to one of a mischievous smirk as he watches her eyes sweep over him. He's not sorry about one bit of what she sees. No shame, this one.]

Maybe we should. [a beat] What about you? This your style or do you prefer to just borrow as needed? [No judgement here, just curious and amused.]