"𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑰𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒖𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒚,"
Rosalie Mai had dealt with the Red Room and its Widow's before and she thought that was that. She had no interest in seeing them - seeing her...
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BLEEDING OUT ON HER couch was not how Rosalie wanted her reunion with Yelena to go — she didn't know if she even wanted one in the first place. "Y-Yelena!" She coughed. Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head quickly. "We meet again, Yelena Belova," She tried her best to steady her voice and keep a stoic face.
Yelena tilted her head with an amused smirk. "That we do, Rosie," There was that nickname, the one she despised coming from the mouth of Wyatt Foster, but when coming from Yelena, it could melt her in an instant. Yelena's eyes trailed down to Rosalie's bleeding leg and she sucked in a sharp breath. "Did Irina do this?" She asked.
"...yes," Rosalie sniffed. She could see Irina standing far back, behind Yelena.
"Good," Yelena said harshly. She turned on her heel and walked over to Irina, who held a bin. Yelena took it and walked back to Rosalie, dropping it at her feet. "That is everything you need to clean yourself up. Once you're done, I'll drive you out of the city and you leave. Whatever the CIA sent you here for, forget it."
Rosalie gulped, trying to ease her dry throat. She nodded slowly. "Of course. Thank you for your generosity, Yelena."
The blonde paused, looking her up and down before quickly leaving. Irina scurried off after, apologizing frantically in Russian. Rosalie was left alone in the small living room with a bin of medical supplies at her feet. Bending down was painful, but she managed to grab some disinfectant and a few cloths and began cleaning her wound. The knife didn't cut deep, but it sure as hell hurt. Placing a rag in her mouth, she poured the alcohol into the cut. She groaned, biting down hard on the rag until the pain subsided. With the other cloth, she cleaned away the dirt and dried blood, but what came next was the hard part.
Rosalie could tolerate pain to a certain extent, but one thing she was never good at was giving herself stitches. After a few minutes, she would be wailing on the floor, unable to finish. She was determined this time. Maybe it was because she knew Yelena would be listening, maybe she just wanted to prove to herself she could do it — whatever it was, she would make sure she finished the stitches. She gathered the supplies needed and slowly began. She groaned and moaned at every poke and pull of the needle, the rag in her mouth no longer helping to ease her pain. "Agh!" She exclaimed, spitting out the rag and putting her head in her hands.
Her thigh was on fire. Rosalie breathed in slowly, taking deep breaths as she tried to regain her confidence to continue. "That's pathetic," Yelena's voice cause her head to snap up.
The blonde leaned on the wall, a smirk on her face. Rosalie rolled her eyes. "You of all people should know how bad I am with stitches,"
