Getting into the room is no problem. She's lucky he's not staying longer, that there isn't much to look through. She downloads the files from both computers she finds, breaks into a briefcase that turns out to be full of cash. Cash that now has trackers embedded in the security strips of quite a few of the bills. She goes through his clothes, checking the time several times. They're going to be missed soon.
Picking up the drives and the phone, she's preparing to leave, and it's in making sure the room doesn't look disturbed that she finds the second case.
Well, she'd be kind of antsy if she had a container of nuclear material, too. Obviously she can't leave it. She tucks the canister down the front of her dress and radios Steve. "Hey. How are we doing? I need to go lateral. Am I clear?"
He sets down his glass eventually and spends the rest of the time trying not to pace impatiently along the balcony, while avoiding looking at his watch too many times. He moves to a spot a little to the side where people inside won't notice him as much and he stays there, glancing up only once or twice, biting back any unease when he hears a voice more clearly every so often, as if they're about to step outside.
Luckily no one does, and eventually it's Natasha's voice that rings clearly in his ear, through the nearly invisible device tucked into his ear. He taps his watch to activate it, looking into the party to make sure no one will hear him, then looks away and speaks up. "You're fine. Not a lot of time, though, so better make it quick," he glances across the city, then adds with a faint smile. "You can always jump, and I'll catch you." He's kidding, don't do that.
Natasha chuckles. "I might be cutting it that close. We'll see." First thing's first, though, and she's swinging from the Senator's balcony to a room a few doors over. Then down two floors, until she gets to a room that's clearly rented but isn't occupied. This is the room she goes through, exits to run across the hotel to their own room, stashing the canister in a black case that she leaves on the balcony to be picked up by drone. Then she runs back to the rented but empty room, back onto the balcony, and hooks her line back onto a balcony above where Steve is.
He doesn't look up at first so he doesn't spot her moving around, and he waits patiently (as patiently as he can manage) until she speaks up again. That's when he looks up, spotting some very faint moving around above him. Her red dress makes her easier to spot too, so it's a good thing no one else is out here.
"Clear. You should have a minute or two at this point. I think—" he glances inside, hiding a little behind that plant she mentioned earlier. "Our absence is just about to be noticed." They may need an excuse as to why they disappeared for so long.
He was joking about catching her, she's sure, and she's not jumping with no support, but she is swinging over in line with Steve and then dropping straight down. She'll be fine if he just lets her hit the balcony, but he's in a position to soften her fall.
He doesn't quite realize how literal she's being there, but at least he reacts just in time when she makes a sudden descent. He takes a couple of steps to the side so he can catch her weight in his arms, letting out a small huff because while she's not exactly heavy, she's armed like a damn tank and the momentum of her fall has added something to the force with which she lands on his arms.
"Just dropping by?" He offers with a small smile, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, that was bad," she says, though she does so with a chuckle. A quick flick of the wrist detaches and retracts her line. She moves to strap the Bites back on her thigh. "Have you looked up dad jokes yet?"
Back on her feet, she straightens her dress and slips her shoes back on. "We've got a slight hiccup, by the way. We're not leaving this party until he does. Hopefully that'll be soon." Her gear is re-stashed, and she once again looks like a trophy wife wearing the hell out of an evening gown. So it's his watch that she checks. "Little long." Nothing to do about that, though. She runs her fingers through her hair, mussing it very slightly. After a moment's thought, she plucks a leaf off of a potted plant against the wall and tucks it into her hair. "Notice this once we're back inside," she tells him, fingers ruining the careful part in his own hair before smoothing it back into place. "Make sure we're in line of sight of someone when you pull it out of my hair."
"Made you chuckle," he shrugs, feeling victorious enough about that. He shakes his head at her question, though he figures it's rhetorical, at least for now. They have other things to worry about.
At first he's not quite aware of what she's doing, messing up her hair right after straightening herself out, but he catches on quick, and with a slight fluster that will likely help along with their little farce, he clears his throat and nods. He runs his own hand through his hair, knowing that now it looks like it was messed up and unsuccessfully combed to the side again, then he follows her inside.
Once a couple's eyes are on them, as well as one of those bulky security fellas, he steps closer to her, slowing her down as he plucks the leaf out of her hair, smiling shyly at her while avoiding anyone else's gaze. There, that ought to do the trick.
Natasha pretends to notice it for the first time when Steve's fingers hold it up to her. She lets shock, embarrassment, and then amusement play out over her face before she grabs his wrist to push his hand down and looks around like she hopes no one noticed. Of course a few people have, and she lets herself blush and turns her face into his shoulder before dragging him to the bar.
"That was great," she says, leaned in close and looking like she's needing him to reassure her that she didn't just make a total ass of herself. "Nothing more perfectly stereotypical than plowing your drunk trophy wife at a fundraiser."
She definitely did not make a total ass of herself. It was a pretty nice touch, actually, and no one's watching them suspiciously as they settle near the bar. Granted, she might've shocked that slightly older couple with that little show, but they'll live. So will Steve, for that matter.
"Excuse me? I was at least just as drunk," he points out, raising his eyebrows at her. "I'm pretty sure you were the one dragging me behind that strategically placed plant."
When the bartender comes over, Natasha lets Steve order drinks for the both of them while she still looks mildly embarrassed and keeps running her hands over her hair, checking it for more leaves that she knows she won't find.
At least Steve didn't have to do any actual playacting. That's something, right? He seems a little more comfortable with it now, anyway. "Hopefully he'll take off soon. We just need to make sure the security cameras have us arriving and leaving when he gets a copy of all the feeds from the hotel once he discovers what's happened."
She checks Steve's watch. The drone should be making the pick up any moment. Then they won't have to worry about anything.
"You should ask my new friend, the studio executive. I'm fairly sure he's of a different opinion." Somehow he manages to deliver that without flustering too much. Honestly his exchange with the man had been awkward and ridiculous more so than anything, helped along by the fact that the man had already had quite a lot to drink at the time. He's probably moved on to some pretty busboy in the meantime.
He picks up their drinks when the waiter finishes serving them, handing one of them to her. "We could give him a little push, if you're in a rush. But it's not that late, and we have nowhere to go. We can probably afford to wait another half hour or so. Party's starting to dwindle, in any case."
"I'm fine waiting," she assures him. "It's just going to be so much easier for us if we only show up on CCTV arriving when we did, and leaving after he does." Her own tech loops CCTV footage, so her run through the hotel won't turn up.
She takes a sip of her drink, some of her discomfort gone now that she doesn't have as much focus on her, and it's not needed. "Especially if you'd like to go spend some more time talking to your new friend? It's important for you to be branching out, making connections." Getting his ass ogled. Poor thing.
"Then we'll wait," he agrees. It's not like he's in any rush to leave here either, even if a hot shower does seem pretty great right now. That can hold, though. He'll be much more relieved if they go back knowing they're covered by the cameras.
He snorts at her remark, and nearly chokes on his drink before lowering it again. "Yeah, no, I think I'm alright, thank you. Besides, I have different..." He glances down at her, then away. The most subtle spy of all. "Preferences."
The look does not go unnoticed. Steve really needs to get himself back out there. Society might have changed a lot, but the most basic principles of dating remain the same. Sort of. Maybe don't start him on Tindr right away. He does need to do something, though. No one should be as alone as he's let himself be these last few months.
"We could dance some more. Want to go slip the band some cash and have them start playing something useful again?"
Oh good, the guy's still stuck on how to use email apps and she wants to introduce him to Tinder, that won't go down horribly or anything. Not to mention he'd be terribly confused at the thought of meeting anyone that way. Whatever happened to meeting face-to-face, getting to know someone by talking to them?
"If you're not too tired." She was the one climbing up the side of a building, after all. "It'll help pass the time, too."
To be fair most attempts to socialize Steve have gone terribly. It's not his fault. It's not anyone's fault. He's a man who has slept through almost three generations and woken to a world he can't find his place in. It would mess with anybody.
Which is part of the reason she encourages him toward the band with a fifty folded in his palm. It'll take his mind off of things. He seemed to really enjoy the dancing earlier. He should get to enjoy more things in his life. It'll also let her make a big show of being tipsy, slightly unsteady on her feet, and it'll make sure that the two of them are noticed even before people end up studying a bunch of CCTV footage frame by frame.
That much he does know how to handle, and he's not surprised by a fifty that much anymore either. Accepting the bill, he crosses the room in slow steps, handing the note over to one of the band members and asking for a slow song to dance to, one of the many he's heard since waking up in this time.
He makes his way back to Natasha, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to her. "Will you do me the honor of this dance?"
Natasha giggles, far more than the situation calls for. She puts her hand in his, and lets him lead her to the dance floor, her steps only slightly wobbly. This man's wife is drunk. This man's wife is leaning her head on her husband's shoulder, like this party has become far too much for her and the world just might possibly be spinning a little.
It also means that Steve can just sway, which she's sure he'll prefer. It's easy, and thoughtless, and at this point in time she's not beyond considering that he just really wants someone to be close to. It's one of the aspects of his situation that she actually has a lot of experience with, feeling disconnected from the world and alone, looking for any point of connection, of human contact, of familiarity. They both arrived at it from very different angles, for very different reasons, but loneliness is loneliness, no matter how you dress it up.
Steve raises an eyebrow at her, wanting to laugh at her giggle and realizing he can actually do so. It goes along with their roles well enough, though the amusement at her little display is real. She's good, though, he'll agree. Good actress, good liar, good spy. It all goes hand in hand in this job anyway.
Loneliness, too. Well, maybe not loneliness, just... getting used to being alone. Steve has, over the years. But he is enjoying himself now, admittedly, even despite their reason for being here. He can barely remember the last time he danced with a beautiful woman. Well, swayed.
She'd love to bust out some serious moves, but drunk women don't dance the way she dances. Even if it was fun to drag Steve along after her earlier. The contented swaying is about as much as she should be able to manage. It's still nice, though. Steve is warm, solid, and he hasn't stepped on her toes even once. Granted, it's pretty difficult to stomp on someone when all you're doing is swaying, but still.
It's easy to let one song roll into two into three. She can't see the Senator with her head on Steve's shoulder and her eyes closed, but she's sure that he's keeping an eye out. It'll probably only take the man about fifteen minutes to make it back to his room after leaving, and she doesn't imagine the discovery of the theft will take long after that.
He does spot the Senator leaving soon after, during one of their dances, he just doesn't bother letting her know right away. Maybe it's a bit selfish or greedy of him, but he doesn't overthink it much. Well, he tries, at least. One song turns into two, and at the start of the third he starts feeling a little guilty, so he slows them to a halt.
"We can probably go now. He left," he pulls back a hint, just enough to glance down at her.
"We shouldn't leave right after him," she says quietly without turning her head to look at the door. "Probably best to give it a buffer window." She's assuming that he's told her immediately, that the Senator and his pair of gorillas just left the ballroom and aren't even in the elevators yet. Steve and selfish don't really gel in her mind. It's true of both Steves, something else they have in common. They are givers. Which is why she steps in close again and lays her head back on his shoulder.
"Right," he says first, a hint of unease to his tone. His hand moves up and down her back in an aimless gesture, and he clears his throat. "Just that... he left about fifteen minutes ago already," he admits a little awkwardly, a little guiltily too. "We weren't in a rush to go anywhere, and— I was enjoying myself. Figured there was no harm in waiting a little. Sorry."
It works out in the end, really, because it's served as that buffer window she spoke of, but still.
She chuckles into his neck. "Enjoying yourself too much to give it up? That's almost a compliment." They're still swaying, and she's not mad, so clearly Steve has not fucked up that badly. "All right. Let's wait out this song, then you can lead me out, we'll stumble into an elevator, you can help me back to the room. Good show for the cameras."
Loneliness. It's a bitch. She's not mad at him, and it's not pity she's feeling. It's a certain camaraderie.
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Picking up the drives and the phone, she's preparing to leave, and it's in making sure the room doesn't look disturbed that she finds the second case.
Well, she'd be kind of antsy if she had a container of nuclear material, too. Obviously she can't leave it. She tucks the canister down the front of her dress and radios Steve. "Hey. How are we doing? I need to go lateral. Am I clear?"
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Luckily no one does, and eventually it's Natasha's voice that rings clearly in his ear, through the nearly invisible device tucked into his ear. He taps his watch to activate it, looking into the party to make sure no one will hear him, then looks away and speaks up. "You're fine. Not a lot of time, though, so better make it quick," he glances across the city, then adds with a faint smile. "You can always jump, and I'll catch you." He's kidding, don't do that.
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"All right. On my way back. Still clear?"
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"Clear. You should have a minute or two at this point. I think—" he glances inside, hiding a little behind that plant she mentioned earlier. "Our absence is just about to be noticed." They may need an excuse as to why they disappeared for so long.
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He was joking about catching her, she's sure, and she's not jumping with no support, but she is swinging over in line with Steve and then dropping straight down. She'll be fine if he just lets her hit the balcony, but he's in a position to soften her fall.
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"Just dropping by?" He offers with a small smile, raising an eyebrow.
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Back on her feet, she straightens her dress and slips her shoes back on. "We've got a slight hiccup, by the way. We're not leaving this party until he does. Hopefully that'll be soon." Her gear is re-stashed, and she once again looks like a trophy wife wearing the hell out of an evening gown. So it's his watch that she checks. "Little long." Nothing to do about that, though. She runs her fingers through her hair, mussing it very slightly. After a moment's thought, she plucks a leaf off of a potted plant against the wall and tucks it into her hair. "Notice this once we're back inside," she tells him, fingers ruining the careful part in his own hair before smoothing it back into place. "Make sure we're in line of sight of someone when you pull it out of my hair."
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At first he's not quite aware of what she's doing, messing up her hair right after straightening herself out, but he catches on quick, and with a slight fluster that will likely help along with their little farce, he clears his throat and nods. He runs his own hand through his hair, knowing that now it looks like it was messed up and unsuccessfully combed to the side again, then he follows her inside.
Once a couple's eyes are on them, as well as one of those bulky security fellas, he steps closer to her, slowing her down as he plucks the leaf out of her hair, smiling shyly at her while avoiding anyone else's gaze. There, that ought to do the trick.
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"That was great," she says, leaned in close and looking like she's needing him to reassure her that she didn't just make a total ass of herself. "Nothing more perfectly stereotypical than plowing your drunk trophy wife at a fundraiser."
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"Excuse me? I was at least just as drunk," he points out, raising his eyebrows at her. "I'm pretty sure you were the one dragging me behind that strategically placed plant."
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When the bartender comes over, Natasha lets Steve order drinks for the both of them while she still looks mildly embarrassed and keeps running her hands over her hair, checking it for more leaves that she knows she won't find.
At least Steve didn't have to do any actual playacting. That's something, right? He seems a little more comfortable with it now, anyway. "Hopefully he'll take off soon. We just need to make sure the security cameras have us arriving and leaving when he gets a copy of all the feeds from the hotel once he discovers what's happened."
She checks Steve's watch. The drone should be making the pick up any moment. Then they won't have to worry about anything.
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He picks up their drinks when the waiter finishes serving them, handing one of them to her. "We could give him a little push, if you're in a rush. But it's not that late, and we have nowhere to go. We can probably afford to wait another half hour or so. Party's starting to dwindle, in any case."
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She takes a sip of her drink, some of her discomfort gone now that she doesn't have as much focus on her, and it's not needed. "Especially if you'd like to go spend some more time talking to your new friend? It's important for you to be branching out, making connections." Getting his ass ogled. Poor thing.
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He snorts at her remark, and nearly chokes on his drink before lowering it again. "Yeah, no, I think I'm alright, thank you. Besides, I have different..." He glances down at her, then away. The most subtle spy of all. "Preferences."
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"We could dance some more. Want to go slip the band some cash and have them start playing something useful again?"
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"If you're not too tired." She was the one climbing up the side of a building, after all. "It'll help pass the time, too."
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Which is part of the reason she encourages him toward the band with a fifty folded in his palm. It'll take his mind off of things. He seemed to really enjoy the dancing earlier. He should get to enjoy more things in his life. It'll also let her make a big show of being tipsy, slightly unsteady on her feet, and it'll make sure that the two of them are noticed even before people end up studying a bunch of CCTV footage frame by frame.
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He makes his way back to Natasha, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to her. "Will you do me the honor of this dance?"
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It also means that Steve can just sway, which she's sure he'll prefer. It's easy, and thoughtless, and at this point in time she's not beyond considering that he just really wants someone to be close to. It's one of the aspects of his situation that she actually has a lot of experience with, feeling disconnected from the world and alone, looking for any point of connection, of human contact, of familiarity. They both arrived at it from very different angles, for very different reasons, but loneliness is loneliness, no matter how you dress it up.
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Loneliness, too. Well, maybe not loneliness, just... getting used to being alone. Steve has, over the years. But he is enjoying himself now, admittedly, even despite their reason for being here. He can barely remember the last time he danced with a beautiful woman. Well, swayed.
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It's easy to let one song roll into two into three. She can't see the Senator with her head on Steve's shoulder and her eyes closed, but she's sure that he's keeping an eye out. It'll probably only take the man about fifteen minutes to make it back to his room after leaving, and she doesn't imagine the discovery of the theft will take long after that.
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"We can probably go now. He left," he pulls back a hint, just enough to glance down at her.
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It works out in the end, really, because it's served as that buffer window she spoke of, but still.
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Loneliness. It's a bitch. She's not mad at him, and it's not pity she's feeling. It's a certain camaraderie.
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