They told her that she was already completely healed, the bullets used during her attack less technologically advanced than plasma essence released from the end of a barrel. The phantom pain is still lingering by the time she gets back to her room, arms still sore from dragging herself across the HQ floor, and for the first time since her arrival Natasha finds herself thankful for the gas that they release into the rooms a night. She's certain she wouldn't have been able to sleep without it.
Upon awakening she still feels sluggish, the first image that flashes behind her lids being one of Tony standing before her with his gun steady. Natasha pushes it away, because that's certainly not going to help her function throughout the day, and she's got too much to concentrate on right now for distractions. So she compartmentalizes, focuses on what she needs to accomplish and exactly how she's going to do so with as little obstruction as possible, and when she sits up she goes to look at her closet when her gaze is immediately pulled by a foreign object in the room.
Object. Not necessarily accurate, it's a man, and although he's face down and fast asleep Natasha would recognize that arm anywhere. Ah. Of course. Of course the Winter Soldier is unconcious on the floor of her room.
The absurdity of this place barely fazes her anymore. For a few moments Natasha simply stares at him as he lies there before she gets out of bed and goes through her daily routine, stepping over him twice to get to her closet and then back, and once she's gotten dressed and fixed her hair to look presentable Natasha sighs and lets her attention move, once again, to the obvious assassin in the room. She's weighing her odds; what are the chances he'll immediately get up to kill her? A solid 80/20, she decides, but the chances of her actually being able to take him down now that she knows his superhuman abilities have been removed? Much higher. Natasha's giving herself a bit of a head start on that one, because when was the last time the Winter Soldier in a fight without having that special arm to save him?
With that in mind she moves closer, staring down at him with her hands planted firmly on her hips and an exasperated look on her face. "Hey." He doesn't react immediately, and Natasha rolls her eyes before giving him a little nudge with the toe of her boot in the leg. "Hey. Get up. I don't have the patience for this, you need to leave."
Early Morning
Upon awakening she still feels sluggish, the first image that flashes behind her lids being one of Tony standing before her with his gun steady. Natasha pushes it away, because that's certainly not going to help her function throughout the day, and she's got too much to concentrate on right now for distractions. So she compartmentalizes, focuses on what she needs to accomplish and exactly how she's going to do so with as little obstruction as possible, and when she sits up she goes to look at her closet when her gaze is immediately pulled by a foreign object in the room.
Object. Not necessarily accurate, it's a man, and although he's face down and fast asleep Natasha would recognize that arm anywhere. Ah. Of course. Of course the Winter Soldier is unconcious on the floor of her room.
The absurdity of this place barely fazes her anymore. For a few moments Natasha simply stares at him as he lies there before she gets out of bed and goes through her daily routine, stepping over him twice to get to her closet and then back, and once she's gotten dressed and fixed her hair to look presentable Natasha sighs and lets her attention move, once again, to the obvious assassin in the room. She's weighing her odds; what are the chances he'll immediately get up to kill her? A solid 80/20, she decides, but the chances of her actually being able to take him down now that she knows his superhuman abilities have been removed? Much higher. Natasha's giving herself a bit of a head start on that one, because when was the last time the Winter Soldier in a fight without having that special arm to save him?
With that in mind she moves closer, staring down at him with her hands planted firmly on her hips and an exasperated look on her face. "Hey." He doesn't react immediately, and Natasha rolls her eyes before giving him a little nudge with the toe of her boot in the leg. "Hey. Get up. I don't have the patience for this, you need to leave."