Pandora

8

       Sitting in her designated corner, Pandora ruffled her wet hair and warily blinked her eyes. A cold shower was an efficient way to keep herself awake, along with a couple other methods, but exhaustion from staying up all night was beginning to take hold. Glancing at the buttons on her jumpsuit, she recalled waking up in bed with them undone.

Frown settling on her lips, Pandora huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as if that would stop whoever partially undressed her to forget about the brand scar on her back. By now, she hoped it would've started to heal faster, but unfortunately for her that wasn't the case and she was currently left with the constant reminder that Hydra left their mark on her, in more ways than one.

Rubbing her eyes, shaking her head, she flicked her gaze to the departing agents on the other side of her cell. Slightly cocking her head to the side, Pandora narrowed her eyes at Bruce and his companions as they entered they cell. Not only was Natasha joining him, but Clint as well, and both of them carried crossbows.

"You don't have to stay over there," Bruce said to Pandora with an amused smile on his lips. "You're more than welcome to join me for breakfast. I'm going to make an omelette and can teach you if you'd like."

Hesitantly, Pandora stood and slowly approached. Crouching, she lowered herself to the floor and crossed her legs underneath her, scrutinizing her cell guests who acted as of nothing had changed, expect for the obvious appearance of an extra agent in the room. Licking her dry lips, Pandora placed her hand on her stomach as it began to grumble right when the portable stove was turned on.

"You've been awake for awhile, it looked like you were saying something but the camera's audio couldn't pick it up," Natasha told her. "Were you singing to yourself? Sometimes Clint and I would do that if we needed to stay awake for awhile on a mission," she nonchalantly admitted.

Scowling at being caught, Pandora rigidly sat upright and kept her mouth clamped shut, peering at the second agent in the cell.

"Hey, Pandora," Clint said with a small wave of his hand after noticing her stare in his direction. "Don't know if you remember me. I'm Clint."

"Clint Barton," she stiffly stated, taking a paper plate.

Raising his brows in surprise, a slight smile on his face, he nodded. "Yeah, you do remember."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not," Natasha teased him, "You might be on her list."

Wrinkling her nose, Pandora furrowed her brows at the comment. Catching onto her confusion, Bruce hastily explained, "If someone refers to someone else having a list, they're usually meaning a hit list or a revenge list, thought is usually not serious."

Frowning, Pandora curtly nodded. "There is only one person on my list," she seriously declared.

Glancing at his fellow spy, Clint and Natasha shared a knowing look, figuring they knew who that one person was. Deciding that was more of a good thing rather than bad, Clint added, "Assuming that one person isn't me, I'm glad I'm not on your list." Beaming at Pandora, he felt his grin falter when she blankly stared at him in return.

"Um," Bruce cleared his throat and brought the attention back to him. "So, an omelette is fairly simple to make..." he trailed off, staring the process.

Catching on quick, Pandora made as many omelettes as a carton of eggs would allow while Bruce rapidly tried to put in the other ingredients, explaining they added more flavor and they're what made an omelette delicious. Of course, she was rather wary about it at first, but came around to the idea after trying it for herself.