“Knowledge is power,” Natasha counters, aware that the words were not meant for her, but unable to stifle the instinctive response. She laughs at the words, low and soft. “Haven’t we all?” she asks, raising an eyebrow back at the woman. Her response to the question is a simple nod, not wishing to rehash her own history, especially not here. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the way the gaze of the men concerned has changed. “They are, but now we are simply entertainment, objects of desire. Any thoughts of business are buried for now.” It’s an old game, but one which still works well when it can be played. “In a few moments, we’re going to go to the bar, and out to the patio. It’s unlikely that they’ll follow, but if they do, head to the Piazza Della Signoria. If I’m not there in half an hour, a SHIELD agent will meet you.” She pauses, meeting Vesper’s gaze closely once more before offering the final words in a near whisper. “You’re more valuable to SHIELD alive. Do as they ask, and they’ll protect you. You have my word.”
“Knowing is half the battle”, Vesper joked although it would most certainly not be notice, her somewhat vague reference as a way to hide her anxiety. Vesper could see a tormented soul when she saw one. It really took one to know one. Nods and half answers were clear signs of a past who was best to remain buried. “Indeed”, Vesper said, bringing a hand down and wrapping it around Natasha’s torso. The former accountant heard the words and tried to fix them the best she could on her mind. It was her safety at danger, and still a part of her feared for the agent’s safety as well, even though she was more than capable of defending herself. Still, the ‘if I don’t show up’ bit caused a chill to run down Vesper’s spine uncomfortably. “Piazza Della Signoria”, she repeated softly. Since their effortlessly forged covers was doing so well, and they were close to making an exit, Vesper felt she had to keep it going. Slowly but surely, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Romanoff’s cheek, dangerously close to her own lips. “I count on that”, she whispered back, against her skin.
The touch confirms what Natasha has simply suspected until now - that despite their differences, the mistrust that runs deep from a lifetime of being betrayed, there is a rare kind of understanding that flashes between them now. She feels Vesper shiver, and it’s a familiar reaction when you truly know how it feels when the words are necessary. Nodding confirmation at the location, she’s nevertheless unprepared once more for the intimacy of the gesture, her hands tightening on Vesper’s waist. The words are warm on her skin, tempting, and despite the eyes of the room being on them - or perhaps because of it - she turns just slightly, now far too close to be safe. “The bar,” she murmurs, although she makes absolutely no move towards the destination. In fact, her only movement is to wrap her fingers lightly around the back of Vesper’s neck, drawing her into a fleeting kiss before slipping away, moving to the bar with heightened colour and waiting for the other woman to join her. Foolish, impulsive, and the first thing to make her pulse race since her last contract kill.
