At the touch of the other woman’s hand, Natasha nods, leading her through the crowds. As glances turn their way, she looks back, murmuring in Vesper’s ear. “Those men, in the corner. Recognise them? Their eyes haven’t left us since we started speaking.” Her own weapon weighs on her thigh, but the room is a little too crowded for a bloodbath. Well, unless she has no choice.
Vesper walked alongside the other woman, pretending to be unaffected by the meaning of her words. It was for her own sake, for her safety. People’s eyes on her and Romanoff would make her uncomfortable, but that was the least of her concerns. Faking a bold smile — to match the bold woman that held her hand — she looked around, looking proud, only to check the men Romanoff had mentioned. “Perhaps”, she replied in a secretive tone, the smile not faltering.
“This only works if you’re honest with me,” Natasha tells Vesper, although her secretive smile never falters. To anyone in the room, it looks as though she’s whispering into her lover’s ear - and that’s how Natasha blends herself to any room. It doesn’t matter that this woman was enough to topple the best English spy from his self assured perch - Natasha is certain that she’s better than him… although she has fallen before. “You tell me, or I will take them out.” She guides the other woman’s hand down to her thigh, allowing her to feel the gun in the pretence of an arm around her waist. The threat is overt, but she has to know before this goes any further.
