Nomad | Hawkeye FF ✓

CUTE OUTFIT

"NO, he had more of a square jawline, and sinister eyes—can I say sinister? They looked sinister to me." Sophie touched a gun that rested snug in it's place on a rack, studied it, then set it back down with distaste.

Carl, the sketch artist, chuckled on the other end of her cellphone and stated, "No, I'm afraid that won't help me—unless you're writing a book, sure. I need simpler words like, angular jawline, small eyes, big eyes, big ears, etcetera."

She bit her bottom lip unintentionally, and reverting her eyes to the ceiling, she ran Joseph's face through her mind from her childhood. "I think..." She squinted her eyes as she leaned on one leg, which caused her hip to stick out slightly, and placed her index and middle finger thoughtfully over her lips. "...I think he had hollow eyes, but they weren't too big. And his lips looked thin."

Sophie patiently waited as she heard only the static of her phone, the rustle of papers, and a pencil softly scratching the surface of paper.

"Finished. I'll send this over to agent Hill who'll show Fury. Thanks for your time and have a safe trip."

Click.

As she pulled her phone away from her ear, she examined the screen with a displeased frown, and muttered, "Ya, bye to you too. And it's a mission, not trip you moron."

"Who are you talking to?"

Pivoting on the balls of her new boot's heels, her eyes connected first with Steve's shield slung around his wrist, then to the tall brute himself. Provokingly, she smiled and replied with an uncharacteristically mischievous chirp to her tone. "Nobody."

Fast as a bunny, she whipped around and studied the guns on the rack more, and stuffed her phone in one the many compartments her uniform held. "You know, people will think you're crazy if you talk to yourself in public."

Slowly, she turned her head around to face Steve across from her. The man gently laid his shield on the ground to lean on a wall. "So then don't talk to yourself in public," Sophie nonchalantly said.

For a split second Steve's face twisted in puzzlement—trying to make sense of her comment, when her responds finally dawned on the man. Rolling his eyes, he ambled passed her and down the ramp of the quinjet, shaking his head as he went back outside.

The moment he was out of sight, she tugged on the collar of her temporary SHIELD uniform, and made a gagged noise. Why do these have to be so tight!? she thought.

Having to wear one of SHIELD's uniforms was another thing Fury felt inclined to tell her in the email. For now she would wear the garb—formally worn by field agents—considering she had nothing to properly change into on the operation. And wearing jeans and a jacket wasn't going to cut it in Fury's strict standards of safety.

She grumbled at their argument on the very subject, and despised that he thought she couldn't fight in such attire. She, not so humbly, reminded him that she nearly took down his team in the same type of getup, so what was so wrong with fighting in it now?

"Cute outfit," a soft feminine voice said.

Sophie quickly spun around in the opposite direction, and saw Natasha climbing up the ladder at the front of the quinjet near the cockpit communications. Unfamiliar with talking to the Avenger, in a nervous gesture she looked down at her clothes and back up, quietly and slowly saying, "Thanks—I mean, that was sarcasm, right?" she asked, straightening up and gradually slipping back into her cold and reserved self.

Natasha comfortably seated herself in one of the two pilot seats, and smirked. And being unable to see the Red Head's face, Sophie missed the cocky, lopsided curve in the woman's rosy lips to know the answer. Her seaweed eyes roved over the control column when she lazily spoke out, "You should take two of the dual Glock 26's there. Those are my favorites." She turned her head around and smiled over her shoulder at Sophie. The young one instantly depicted an intended naughtiness that which gleamed in her eyes and facade.