[ Just think, Natasha. You could be having sex instead.
When she lowers her gaze, Tony kind of tilts his head as if he could somehow see her eyes better and therefore read her mind. It's one of those questions that sounds easier than it is, probably, but is maybe even harder for certain types of people.
He listens to company he keeps in the hall of stuff Romanoff likes, and his study isn't sharp. He's not sure if they'll ever completely relax -- 'ever', as if 'they' as a unit have longevity -- but he's not looking for a gotcha moment.
So that's something. ]
Going fast, [ he says, picking up the cue. He could talk about how she's probably read the book on what Tony Stark likes, already, but. ] West coast during the day, east coast at night. Cheesesteak.
[ He's pushed to his feet as he lists these things, easing closer, that when he finds a landing, it's within her personal space again. Still holding the tea, though. In among the release of grassy herb, there's the trace scent of whatever range of masculine grooming and hair products he'd applied a morning ago. No cologne, in this outfit. ]
That little-- [ He points at her, then thinks better, gestures to himself, the eyebrow region. ] --thing your brow does when you're trying not to like me too much. I think that's it, anyway.
no subject
When she lowers her gaze, Tony kind of tilts his head as if he could somehow see her eyes better and therefore read her mind. It's one of those questions that sounds easier than it is, probably, but is maybe even harder for certain types of people.
He listens to company he keeps in the hall of stuff Romanoff likes, and his study isn't sharp. He's not sure if they'll ever completely relax -- 'ever', as if 'they' as a unit have longevity -- but he's not looking for a gotcha moment.
So that's something. ]
Going fast, [ he says, picking up the cue. He could talk about how she's probably read the book on what Tony Stark likes, already, but. ] West coast during the day, east coast at night. Cheesesteak.
[ He's pushed to his feet as he lists these things, easing closer, that when he finds a landing, it's within her personal space again. Still holding the tea, though. In among the release of grassy herb, there's the trace scent of whatever range of masculine grooming and hair products he'd applied a morning ago. No cologne, in this outfit. ]
That little-- [ He points at her, then thinks better, gestures to himself, the eyebrow region. ] --thing your brow does when you're trying not to like me too much. I think that's it, anyway.