𝑻𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒅𝒐𝒐𝒓 ✘ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐅𝐅

{3³} {BLOOD ROSES}

∆ {3³} {BLOOD ROSES} ∆ 

NATASHA WASN'T SURE what'd put Ryder in such a strange mood. The woman hadn't objected when Natasha had helped her up, and she'd been joking around the team properly for maybe the first time ever. And her response to Natasha's flirting gave the redhead some hope that maybe he had a chance. Initially, she'd been unsure if she actually liked Ryder, but the sparks that'd danced up Natasha's arms when she'd helped the noirette up had confirmed it. She didn't know if she was okay with how she felt. It was a weakness, and Ryder might get hurt by somebody else looking to get at her because of it. There was a causality, and Natasha wasn't sure she was ready to deal with it. But right now, she needed to make sure Ryder could fight well enough after being hit on the head with a gun, and then high-tail it over to the Hulk for a lullaby.

After Natasha left, Roxi put her guns away again, pulling out her quarterstaff and leaning on it slightly as she made her way back to the quinjet, watching for any stragglers that might've escape the roundup. She hadn't found any yet, but as she entered a clearing, she saw the speedy silver kid zoom past her again, leaving a slight trench in the deep snow behind him. She was half temped to go after him, and had just started to do so when Steve's voice came through the comms, as if he'd known exactly what she was about to do.

"We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage." Roxi sighed slightly. If both of the enhanced were working together, she wouldn't have a shot against them together, so she continued her original path back towards the quinjet. Her hands were shaking, for a few reasons. Partly from the sheer cold, partly from adrenaline, some from the dizzying ache that swirled around her head, but mostly from the doubts that raced through her mind. Clint was hurt. If she'd just given in and told the rest of the team about her powers, she'd probably have been able to stop him from being injured. If she hadn't been so focused on the idea of people coming up behind them and hung back, maybe she'd have been able to stop it. The thoughts kept coming back, leering at her as the letters formed some kind of strange, wicked grin in her mind, telling her she could do better. But she was used to it. She was used to the way her mind would conjure up strange images and leave them swimming in a pool of her doubts, as if hoping she'd scare herself with each one, patiently waiting for her to fall through her own trapdoor.

The metaphorical trapdoor helped Roxi focus her mind, stopping the nightmare images from flooding the part of her headed she used for combat; the cool, level-headed side, that made sure she masked her emotions. Lately, her emotions had been getting stronger and stronger, and she was beginning to find it harder to hide them. Especially the guilt she still harboured about the name on that gravestone, even after all these years. The visits had loosened her mind, as if someone was reminding her that eventually, she'd let someone in, just as she had once before. This time, Roxi found herself vaguely hoping that it would be Natasha who she'd be able to open herself up to. And hopefully the redhead would be able to swim on top of the sea of information, instead of drowning in the riptide of memories and doubts like Roxi found herself doing, more than she'd like to admit.

"Guys, I got Strucker." But there was Steve as well. Initially, she didn't know if she'd really like the man, especially with the firmly fixed, patriotic mindset he had, but after the events of their mission last year.. She didn't know if it was fair to be critical to any of the people around her, especially seeing snippets of what they'd been through, as she had with Steve. Roxi herself had done far worse things, she reminded herself, and no-one had commented on it. The only person she'd ever felt had judged her was Natasha, and the redhead had a right to do so; she'd been through hell and back, and both women had ended up in the same line of work.