—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.]

[laviny]

Okay, but you definitely weren’t going to want the bright yellow.

[She accepts Natasha’s invitation to sit, though, and flops down next to her.]

[deaddrop]

What's the difference if I don't use it here or I don't use it in your room?

[Natasha finishes her first hand and blows on her nails, her eyes staying on her sister.]

You'll have the same amount of yellow nail polish when we're done.

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.]

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.

[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.

[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 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.]

[savingthrows]

[ The choice ends up being surprisingly easy. The yellow Eleven picks is offensively, painfully bright. The purple glitters so much you could entertain a disco with it.

Eleven looks like she would kill or die for these horrific colors, and looks up at Natasha as if she hung the moon consequently, tentatively settling the bottles between them. ]

Who is your sister?

[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?

[deaddrop]

Yelena Belova.

[Natasha picks up the yellow despite how terribly bright it is. She might not understand why on earth Yelena would have kept it, but she's not about to say that to the girl.

Like Hell she's going to risk making Eleven doubt her choices.]

You want to do every other nail? Half one color, half the other?

[savingthrows]

I know Yelena.

[ The pronunciation is slightly off - something Natasha is free to observe in general here and there. It's not an accent, and not a speech impediment in the traditional sense. But it can bleed through, the way Eleven isn't always fully sure of her words, and the way they're often just a touch off. ]

I like her. She has pockets. She knows things.

[ Eleven regards Yelena as the smartest adult on the station. No offense to Bucky, whom Eleven regards as the kindest. But he's a sad boy, and sad boys can be kind but are also a little bit dumb. She knows this from a wealth of experience. ]

Every other. Please.

[ She has no real preference on that, truth be told - doesn't know about nail polish much, really, has never worn it. But she's given a choice, and so it matters that she gets to choose. And after a moment, hesitantly: ]

Bell-Over?

[ She wasn't familiar with the last name, and syllables are more unfamiliar than usual. ]

[bossily]

You're about to find out.

[She nods toward the jar, smiling in a slightly embarrassed yet proud sort of way.]

It's supposed to have just a bit of cinnamon and honey in it, but I think Newt might've dropped some pretzels into the processor before it all was mixed together.

[But hey, there's nothing wrong with a bit of salty and sweet, she wagers.]

Peanut butter isn't really a thing where I'm from. Think it's pretty much only a staple in the states, really. But whenever I go back? I'll definitely be finding a way to get my hands on it all the time.

[She says it while she's headed over to the pantry to look and see if there's any more jars of alien fruit preserves that she and Leonard have made.]

[deaddrop]

Belova.

[Natasha repeats patiently as she opens the yellow nail polish and holds out her hand for Eleven's. She doesn't just take the girl's hand.

Natasha knows better than to assume that just because someone's a young girl, it's safe to manhandle them.]

It's Russian.

[Helpfully. As though maybe knowing the accent will help.]

Knowing things is what Russians do best.

[That may be a joke. Though one only Natasha would find funny. Secrets were about her home country's national pass time. It was the philosophy behind the Red Room. Outpowered and outspent, people and training had been Russia's greatest asset through most of the 20th century.]

You have a name?

[deaddrop]

You know, I think I can work with that.

[Natasha's sense of taste isn't what it used to be since she damaged her olfactory nerve, but sweet and salty are still pretty reliably tasty.

And considering she's looking for comfort food, sounds perfect really.]

It wasn't a thing where I'm from originally, either, but I spent some time in the US when I was a kid. I guess I picked up a taste for it.

[A little sheepish. It's mostly for show, but not exactly insincere. More that she chooses how much of the truth to show.]

Lucky enough you did too.

[savingthrows]

[ She freezes - and it's not subtle. Eleven's features scrunch up a little, equal parts weary and unsure about the information given. ]

But you don't look like... bad guys.

[ And that's what Russians are - right? They're bad guys. In general, Hopper always says so, but currently in Hawkins in particular.

And they all look like bad guys, too. None of them look pretty and kind, like Natasha and Yelena do. Something doesn't compute her - at least not a child like Eleven.

So in her best 'I'm 14 and I Know Things' voice, Eleven supplies: ]

You're not Russian. You're not a bad man with a gun.

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's expression changes at that, becoming more guarded. Not hostile. Not even unfriendly.

But her smile becomes more professional. A mask that she can operate behind.

She doesn't withdraw her hand though, offering it again pointedly.]

What do you know about bad guys?

[She could argue, or try to explain her situation to the girl. That seems more likely to end the conversation, though.

She'd rather ask a question.]

[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.

[savingthrows]

[ Eleven's eyes narrow for a moment as she regards Natasha, guarded now as well. And still, after a moment she slips her hand into the other woman's offered one. ]

I know. How to kill bad guys.

[ She keeps those wide brown eyes on Natasha, though the gaze is harder now. ]

Doctors. Scientists. Agents. Russians, with guns. Bad men.