[ She watches it unfold with a mild sort of interest. (When it's motor oil that's slick on Bond's fingers, not blood, it makes her smile.)
Natasha Romanoff has lived a long time. Back then, when she was Natalia, her and Bond had been on other sides of that fence — the first time she'd seen his work, it was on a dead corpse of one of her 'sisters'. Now, the way he rips Greene apart — it's the kind of cruel, calculated efficiency that Natasha could call beautiful, if she let herself. Not for the first time, she wonders what it would be like to sleep with him — whether he lets himself unravel as fast as he ruins, leaving nothing but bonemeal and dust.
When it's over and done and it's dead man's oil that's sludge inside his own lungs, Natasha blinks slowly, letting her eyes fall first on Camille, then Bond. It's the kind of long, assessing look that's hard to figure out, but whatever she's searching for she must find because then the jeep guns into life again, driving over dunes and plains of sand, hot desert air rolling past the windows.
(She wonders if he's slept with Camille, too.)
In the reflection of the rear view mirror, a grey-blue bruise on Natasha's cheek turns from purple to yellow back to pink again. ]
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Natasha Romanoff has lived a long time. Back then, when she was Natalia, her and Bond had been on other sides of that fence — the first time she'd seen his work, it was on a dead corpse of one of her 'sisters'. Now, the way he rips Greene apart — it's the kind of cruel, calculated efficiency that Natasha could call beautiful, if she let herself. Not for the first time, she wonders what it would be like to sleep with him — whether he lets himself unravel as fast as he ruins, leaving nothing but bonemeal and dust.
When it's over and done and it's dead man's oil that's sludge inside his own lungs, Natasha blinks slowly, letting her eyes fall first on Camille, then Bond. It's the kind of long, assessing look that's hard to figure out, but whatever she's searching for she must find because then the jeep guns into life again, driving over dunes and plains of sand, hot desert air rolling past the windows.
(She wonders if he's slept with Camille, too.)
In the reflection of the rear view mirror, a grey-blue bruise on Natasha's cheek turns from purple to yellow back to pink again. ]