"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.
"Something like that," he admits with a small smile, since she doesn't seem to mind it all that much. So he does as she says, and keeps dancing slowly until the music draws to an end. The band takes a break for a few seconds and Steve pries himself away from her at last, with a level of reluctance that could be real or just acting, but it works either way.
Taking one of her hands, he leads them away from the dance floor, not particularly quick or purposeful as he takes them both out of the party and towards the lifts.
She lets her steps remain slow and unhurried, leaning heavily on his arm and shoulder, the perfect picture of a lightweight who's had far too much to drink. She keep up the act for the whole elevator ride, stumbles a little down their hallway and dissolves into more giggles when she does, and maintains the picture of ridiculousness until they're behind the closed door of their suite again.
"All right, I know the plan was to get out of here tonight, but I think we should stay." She holds her hand up to her lips to ask him for silence, then stumbles out onto the balcony, taking in great heaving gasps of air like she's trying to keep from throwing up. The real reason is to check the corner of the balcony, and sure enough, the package has been picked up.
Back in the room, she flops herself into a chair. "Walk over here, pet my hair reassuringly, and then go close the blinds." Maybe she's a little paranoid, but it comes with the job.
She plays a good drunk, that's for sure. Not too over the top, but not too subtle either, and Steve looks both awkward and amused all the while he guides her to their room. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief once they're in the room, all the more so when she says they should stay for the night. It's probably less conspicuous, as leaving in the middle of the night would likely get some unwanted attention, but Steve's also glad for not having to pack up and travel now, in the middle of the night.
Granted, he'll have to make do with the couch, but he's slept in much worse places before. He'll live.
He raises an eyebrow at her words, his answer amused as he walks over to her. "You're very bossy, you know that? It'll kill this marriage. We'll have to talk about it sometime," he jokes as he strokes her hair a couple of times, leaning down to kiss her near her hairline. He then rights himself and moves to the window, closing the blinds.
Playing the drunk is easy. The difficult thing is actually being drunk and dodging hostiles as you race through the streets of a city you're only passingly familiar with. Stumbling down a hallway? Very much preferred. Though, honestly, she had a lot more fun swinging around the outside of the building earlier.
Once the curtains are closed, she gets up out of the chair and shakes her head at him. "Hey, some guys like that. I was on this op in Kiev once, and the man I was supposed to ingratiate myself with liked it when--" She breaks off, shaking her head and laughing a little. "Just. Trust me. Some guys like a take charge woman. Do me a favour and make sure the curtains in the bedroom are all closed?"
She kicks her shoes off again, flinging them in two different directions with her toes.
Steve raises an eyebrow at her observation, particularly as she goes on to tell him that story. When she trails off he ponders for a moment whether he wants to know what she did that this guy was so into, but then decides he doesn't really want to know. Not like it matters, in any case. "I never said I didn't like it."
It had been a playful remark, and that was all. He had expected her to tell him what to do plenty of times throughout the night, considering it had been a very long time since he'd gone on an undercover assignment like this. Either way, he had sounded far from upset when he mentioned her taking charge and telling him what to do.
"Alright," he nods, making his way to the bedroom and closing whatever curtains are still open, then he makes his way back out, gesturing back inside. "All yours."
She gives him a grateful smile and heaves herself out of the chair. She is a little tired, but also keyed up on the energy of the evening. Not to mention, relaxing isn't really an option. Ideally, they'll ride this out wait until the Senator decided it must be an outside job, and then disappear. She can't discount the possibility that they'll be found out, and that this whole thing will turn violent quickly. So relaxing fully is not an option.
She can get a little more comfortable, though.
So she turns her back to Steve and sweeps her hair out of the way. "Would you upzip me?" It's easy to get it up with a piece of ribbon threaded through the zipper pull, but much more difficult to get it down again without help.
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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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Taking one of her hands, he leads them away from the dance floor, not particularly quick or purposeful as he takes them both out of the party and towards the lifts.
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"All right, I know the plan was to get out of here tonight, but I think we should stay." She holds her hand up to her lips to ask him for silence, then stumbles out onto the balcony, taking in great heaving gasps of air like she's trying to keep from throwing up. The real reason is to check the corner of the balcony, and sure enough, the package has been picked up.
Back in the room, she flops herself into a chair. "Walk over here, pet my hair reassuringly, and then go close the blinds." Maybe she's a little paranoid, but it comes with the job.
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Granted, he'll have to make do with the couch, but he's slept in much worse places before. He'll live.
He raises an eyebrow at her words, his answer amused as he walks over to her. "You're very bossy, you know that? It'll kill this marriage. We'll have to talk about it sometime," he jokes as he strokes her hair a couple of times, leaning down to kiss her near her hairline. He then rights himself and moves to the window, closing the blinds.
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Once the curtains are closed, she gets up out of the chair and shakes her head at him. "Hey, some guys like that. I was on this op in Kiev once, and the man I was supposed to ingratiate myself with liked it when--" She breaks off, shaking her head and laughing a little. "Just. Trust me. Some guys like a take charge woman. Do me a favour and make sure the curtains in the bedroom are all closed?"
She kicks her shoes off again, flinging them in two different directions with her toes.
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It had been a playful remark, and that was all. He had expected her to tell him what to do plenty of times throughout the night, considering it had been a very long time since he'd gone on an undercover assignment like this. Either way, he had sounded far from upset when he mentioned her taking charge and telling him what to do.
"Alright," he nods, making his way to the bedroom and closing whatever curtains are still open, then he makes his way back out, gesturing back inside. "All yours."
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She can get a little more comfortable, though.
So she turns her back to Steve and sweeps her hair out of the way. "Would you upzip me?" It's easy to get it up with a piece of ribbon threaded through the zipper pull, but much more difficult to get it down again without help.
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