Natasha slips the glass to Vesper when it arrives, fingers lingering on the rim. She’s trying desperately to fight the urge to taste that mouth again, especially when there’s so much at stake. This isn’t about her safety, its about securing the target for SHIELD. She’s done this a thousand times before… so why does it feel so difficult now? “Natural talent, more than help,” she answers, hand slipping down to rest her thumb on the curve of Vesper’s hip. “Drink up, darling,” she says, loud enough for the bartender to hear. “I think we may need some… fresh air after this.” At the words, she leans in, trailing kisses along the other woman’s jawline, ensuring that the man who’s suddenly stopped polishing the glasses takes it in. Another spy. Will this mission never end? … Does she even want it to?
As Vesper stood by the agent’s side, she couldn’t help but wonder if the kiss was merely something she should had expected or not. After all, she had almost kissed Romanoff, so her intention might had been simply to raise the stakes and make the cover more believable. She was a trained agent, and Vesper had the feeling that not knowing whether she meant what she said or did would be a constant, if Vesper was to keep seeing her. “Then thank you for being naturally talented”, she said with a grin before looking at the drink she had just been instructed to drink. Taking it in her hand, her first instinct is to drink it all at once, but Vesper felt it was optimal for her not to be tipsy, in case she had to run, so the former accountant simply took a couple of sips. She even opened her mouth, but before Vesper could answer, the cool touch of the other woman’s lips on her jawline stopped her. What was going to be words became a gasp for air. She could see why she’d need fresh air after that. Vesper’s arms wrapped around tightly around Romanoff’s waist and pulled her closer, the gesture being unwittingly rather than thought out.
Natasha smirks at the gasp, the way the other woman draws her closer, but there’s a definite personal flair to the expression. The gesture isn’t calculated, suggesting that Vesper is subject to the same discomfiting emotions she’s experiencing herself. She drains her glass, placing it almost challengingly on the bar as she unconsciously watches the other woman’s lips press against her own glass. Natasha reminds herself that she’s in control, that she can do as she wishes in that capacity - but she knows the difference between acting on a mission and acting as she would in any anonymous bar in whatever city she finds herself in. It takes a lot more than what she’s been drinking to affect Natasha even a little, and so it’s discomfiting to her to find herself pressing closer, hand guiding Vesper’s glass to her mouth as the growing crowd looks on. “Come on, love. I have plans that simply won’t wait.” Half of the jaws drop, and if she wasn’t so otherwise occupied, Natasha would shake her head in disappointment. So easy.
