He huffs and rolls his eyes almost imperceptibly, his frustration kept between the two of them. "Fine. But I'm definitely setting an alarm. I'm not wasting a whole day on a computer again."
As for his other words, it doesn't even cross his mind that they can be taken in a different context, and he doesn't really spot the difference in her smile enough to ask her about it. "We should stick around a little longer. Probably not a good idea to go poking around with this level of security, but— best to blend in. If we leave too early we'll stick out like a sore thumb." And not in a good way. Steve would rather make it back to the room without anyone tailing them. "Besides, that fella there is looking at me funny. Think there might be something to it?"
Natasha nods her head slowly. "Yeah, I think there is. You should talk to him later on, after he's had a few. People should be letting their guards down by about ten. Everyone will be completely hammered by midnight. That's our window for working the floor. After that, I'm going to have you distract the senator while I get up to his room." At the moment, it's just a hunch, but her hunches tend to pan out.
"So," she takes his arm and checks his watch. "We've got an hour before we'll get anything useful. Want to dance with your fake wife?"
The fact that Natasha agrees with him leaves him feeling a little surer about his suspicions. Not that he doubts his instincts, but he is a little... rusty, you could say. It's nice to know he hasn't completely lost his touch, and that he's adapted well enough to the current times that the smallest things don't trip him up or distract him from his objective.
He smiles a little at her question, tipping his head. "As long as you can cope with me actually enjoying it." He offers her his hand, then leads them to the dance floor. It's not overly crowded yet which offers them plenty of room to move, although as the music plays on a few more couples join in, likely motivated by the ones already dancing.
"Are you kidding me?" Natasha throws back the rest of her drink and sets her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter before taking Steve's hand. "In this dress, I'd be a little insulted if you didn't."
She's not sure if he realizes that she's using him to show herself off. There's a fluid quality to the fabric of her dress. It ripples like there's a current in it, a swelling tide. It's what helps to camouflage the fact that she's surprisingly heavily armed. It has other uses, though. She's not one for swaying, but he doesn't have to do much. She can use him like a prop, as long as it's something she can fold into the cover. Not all men can dance. SOme are absolutely hopeless, so why not this fake woman's fake husband?
He does look pretty happy, though. She wonders how long it's been since he went dancing. Then, on the heels of that, she wonders what he'd make of dancing today. The idea makes her chuckle.
He does realize what she's doing, yes, but he doesn't mind it much. Especially in this context. As much as he enjoys her company, they are here for work before anything else, and she's playing a part just like she must. As is he, of course. If he so happens to enjoy having her close to him like this, well... that's doing no harm, now is it.
He's not a terrible dancer by any means, but it's obvious he doesn't know any proper steps, and he seems to have a tendency to sway more so than dance. She keeps up, though, sometimes taking the lead and change the steps a bit.
Her chuckle draws him out of an odd thought or another, and he lifts an eyebrow at her. "What's so funny?"
"I'm trying to imagine you shaking your ass on the rooftop of The Standard. It doesn't quite work. If you think Wikipedia is too much..." She shrugs one shoulder, then steps back with one foot to brace herself, and does most of the work in a dip so low her hair almost brushes the floor. It's much easier to lead someone without looking like you're leading them if you're just walking, but Steve has a natural sense of the way his own body moves, a good read on the way hers does, and he thinks well on his feet. All in all, it could be much worse. They make quite the striking pair.
He huffs in something close to a laugh, cut short when she leans back suddenly. He follows easily enough, though, hand pressed to the small of her back when he realizes what she's doing, though she seems to hold most of her own weight perfectly without needing his support. Still, he applies a bit of pressure as she pulls back up, drawing her a little closer to him than he'd intended to.
"Is that one of those modern dancing clubs people go to these days?"
"Yes." She's smirking, and it adds to the image of the intimacy of the pair, but that's not the reason. "It's one of those modern dancing clubs. You know. For the young people. Which... I don't know, are you in your twenties?" She leans in closer, so that there's absolutely no chance of her whisper carrying to anyone but him. "Or are you in your hundred and twenties? Are you one of the kids, or the old man yelling at them to get off his lawn? Because that's probably going to heavily influence your social calendar from here on out."
He would look offended if he didn't know she's just teasing him right now. He feigns an upset huff, though, letting out a chuckle. His eyes dart vaguely across the room as they turn on the dance floor. "I am in my thirties. Early thirties, as you are well aware. Besides, I don't even have a lawn, so."
"Please. At your age, you are way past the time when you start fudging the birthday count. Start now. Maybe by the time you look sixty you'll have evened things out." She leads him to spin her out, then back in, in careful time with the music, skirt billowing out around her. "Besides, the lawn is metaphorical. You can still be the cranky old man. You don't even have to wear the socks and sandals. Which is a good thing. Not a good look on anybody."
The song ends, the light applause begins, and Natasha turns to join. The next song is much more sedate. "You're more of a sway-er, aren't you?" She holds out her arms in an obliging manner. They can sway for a little while. Not much to do in the way of showcasing assets, but Steve does seem to be enjoying himself, and they've got the time.
He laughs, shrugging. "Why would I lie about my age? Anyway, thirty isn't old. I'm still very fit and full of energy, thank you," he tips his head, winking playfully at her as he pulls her back in after that spin. "I don't have the habit of going around yelling at people and complaining about everything, no. So don't worry about that."
Matching everyone else, he applauds once the song is over, turning back to her when the next one begins. Maybe it's indulging a little, and maybe he shouldn't be enjoying himself while working, but there's no harm in just... one more dance. "I've never learned any proper dance steps," he admits, stepping closer and placing one arm around her, then the other when he sees the other couples doing the same. "But I like dancing. Swaying especially, yes."
One more turns into two, then three, drinks peppered in the down time between. Dancing is fun, and there's not a ton of other ways to kill the time. Natasha watches the crowd around them, a few faces in particular. She waits for the flushed cheeks, the slightly glassy eyes. She waits until gesturing hands begin to flail a little more wildly, until amused laughter turns raucous. This event is, on the surface, a fundraiser. That means that those in charge have a vested interest in getting people drunk enough to part with quite a large chunk of change, so their window is small. "All right," she tells Steve as the two of them sip another pair of drinks in the corner. "Time to go. You've got your four marks. Start with the one who was staring at you."
She's got her own lines to reel in. It's a throwaway comment, back over her shoulder when she's a few steps away from him. "Oh, and don't be surprised if he's got the same idea that you did earlier. You know, about getting you out of your clothes." Hopefully Steve is tipsy enough to just roll with this.
Natasha's more observant than he is, more used to her surroundings too, so he follows her lead and waits for her go-ahead when she starts to pick up on clues that tell her it's time they move in. He nods when she announces it's time, taking one last sip from his drink and setting it down on a table nearby.
Smoothing his clothes as he squares his shoulders, he looks over at her as she throws that remark at him. He frowns for a moment, confused, but he's not completely ignorant either. It may take him a few seconds but then it clicks in his head, and then he's struggling not to blush viciously.
Anyway, it's work. It has to be done. Not that he plans on getting on any level of undressing with the guy, but he won't die if he has to be a little more... friendly than he's comfortable with. He starts off across the room, walking casually as if there's no real purpose to it, until he manages to get close enough to his first mark, and he'll try to keep up the same relaxed attitude as he makes his way through his list.
Hopefully not all of them are as prone to flirting.
He was right about one thing, he definitely doesn't read as spy.
She gives him the signal when the room is past the point of useful intoxication, and then begins to feign it herself. He can help her out to the balcony for some air. It's deserted at the moment because of a light drizzle making the brisk evening actually cold. It's a good place to vanish for a bit. Mostly because there's only one way in and out.
Which is perfect, because she's got lots to tell him. Hopefully, he's also got something useful to share.
He can tell when he starts getting less information out of people, so her signal comes as no surprise. He parts ways with his current company with a smile and a bow of his head, and leaves them to keep drinking and turning their attention on someone else. He's quick to make his way back to Natasha's side, taking her idea and going with it as he leads them out to the balcony.
"So? Enjoyed the party?" He keeps the question inane enough at first, until he's sure they're out of anyone's ear range.
Natasha's response is a lazy smile and a laugh, until they're through the doors and off to one side. All pretense of intoxication vanishes quickly. "Senator's definitely dirty. Also a lecherous creep who wouldn't give me his room key, which means there's something worth hiding in there. So something is happening with him tonight, and I've got..." She checks Steve's watch again. "About fifteen minutes before our absence is noticed. So..." She nods her head straight up, at the hotel windows and balconies of the more prestigious rooms above their heads. "Do you want to wait here, or do you feel like coming along?"
He looks up to the same windows when she nods, eyebrows raising with a light huff. "I think I'd just hold you back," he says honestly. He's in good shape, granted, but she's much quicker and more flexible than he is. "You go, I'll stay here. Keep in touch, and if you need a distraction, let me know. I'll think of something."
He's hoping she'll be fast and it won't come to that, but you never know.
"Tripping and spilling a drink down someone's dress is usually pretty distracting," she says as she pulls her stealth Bites from where they were strapped to her leg. She slips off her shoes, takes the time to decide on the best connection point, and quickly takes aim. "Oh, and if someone else is dumb enough to be out here when it's this cold, go in the corner behind that plant and make embarrassing sex noises."
She spares one final glance to see if he's blushing again before she shoots out a grappling line and gets herself airbourne. It's a hell of a rush. Kind of literally. Time is against her for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that a woman scaling the facade of a five star hotel is something that's ridiculously difficult to explain. So it's 90 seconds to zip her way up eight floors.
Fifteen minutes. She can do this. Steve will be fine.
It's as good a suggestion as any other, and much along the lines of what Steve was thinking of. The last remark surprises him more, though, and when she looks back she likely won't miss the flustered look on his face, even if the dark of the night mostly hides the blush. He finds himself hoping with all his might that no one will come out here while Natasha is climbing up or down the wall, he'd be mortified to have to do something like... that.
He keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer, impressed she manages to zip up the eight floors in such a short time. Eventually he looks back out over the city, feigning a sip from his already empty glass, trying to look as inconspicuous as can be as he glances back in at the party. Luckily the Senator's still there, not showing any signs that he plans to leave. Hopefully it'll stay that way.
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.
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As for his other words, it doesn't even cross his mind that they can be taken in a different context, and he doesn't really spot the difference in her smile enough to ask her about it. "We should stick around a little longer. Probably not a good idea to go poking around with this level of security, but— best to blend in. If we leave too early we'll stick out like a sore thumb." And not in a good way. Steve would rather make it back to the room without anyone tailing them. "Besides, that fella there is looking at me funny. Think there might be something to it?"
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"So," she takes his arm and checks his watch. "We've got an hour before we'll get anything useful. Want to dance with your fake wife?"
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He smiles a little at her question, tipping his head. "As long as you can cope with me actually enjoying it." He offers her his hand, then leads them to the dance floor. It's not overly crowded yet which offers them plenty of room to move, although as the music plays on a few more couples join in, likely motivated by the ones already dancing.
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She's not sure if he realizes that she's using him to show herself off. There's a fluid quality to the fabric of her dress. It ripples like there's a current in it, a swelling tide. It's what helps to camouflage the fact that she's surprisingly heavily armed. It has other uses, though. She's not one for swaying, but he doesn't have to do much. She can use him like a prop, as long as it's something she can fold into the cover. Not all men can dance. SOme are absolutely hopeless, so why not this fake woman's fake husband?
He does look pretty happy, though. She wonders how long it's been since he went dancing. Then, on the heels of that, she wonders what he'd make of dancing today. The idea makes her chuckle.
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He's not a terrible dancer by any means, but it's obvious he doesn't know any proper steps, and he seems to have a tendency to sway more so than dance. She keeps up, though, sometimes taking the lead and change the steps a bit.
Her chuckle draws him out of an odd thought or another, and he lifts an eyebrow at her. "What's so funny?"
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"Is that one of those modern dancing clubs people go to these days?"
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The song ends, the light applause begins, and Natasha turns to join. The next song is much more sedate. "You're more of a sway-er, aren't you?" She holds out her arms in an obliging manner. They can sway for a little while. Not much to do in the way of showcasing assets, but Steve does seem to be enjoying himself, and they've got the time.
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Matching everyone else, he applauds once the song is over, turning back to her when the next one begins. Maybe it's indulging a little, and maybe he shouldn't be enjoying himself while working, but there's no harm in just... one more dance. "I've never learned any proper dance steps," he admits, stepping closer and placing one arm around her, then the other when he sees the other couples doing the same. "But I like dancing. Swaying especially, yes."
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She's got her own lines to reel in. It's a throwaway comment, back over her shoulder when she's a few steps away from him. "Oh, and don't be surprised if he's got the same idea that you did earlier. You know, about getting you out of your clothes." Hopefully Steve is tipsy enough to just roll with this.
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Smoothing his clothes as he squares his shoulders, he looks over at her as she throws that remark at him. He frowns for a moment, confused, but he's not completely ignorant either. It may take him a few seconds but then it clicks in his head, and then he's struggling not to blush viciously.
Anyway, it's work. It has to be done. Not that he plans on getting on any level of undressing with the guy, but he won't die if he has to be a little more... friendly than he's comfortable with. He starts off across the room, walking casually as if there's no real purpose to it, until he manages to get close enough to his first mark, and he'll try to keep up the same relaxed attitude as he makes his way through his list.
Hopefully not all of them are as prone to flirting.
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She gives him the signal when the room is past the point of useful intoxication, and then begins to feign it herself. He can help her out to the balcony for some air. It's deserted at the moment because of a light drizzle making the brisk evening actually cold. It's a good place to vanish for a bit. Mostly because there's only one way in and out.
Which is perfect, because she's got lots to tell him. Hopefully, he's also got something useful to share.
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"So? Enjoyed the party?" He keeps the question inane enough at first, until he's sure they're out of anyone's ear range.
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He's hoping she'll be fast and it won't come to that, but you never know.
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She spares one final glance to see if he's blushing again before she shoots out a grappling line and gets herself airbourne. It's a hell of a rush. Kind of literally. Time is against her for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that a woman scaling the facade of a five star hotel is something that's ridiculously difficult to explain. So it's 90 seconds to zip her way up eight floors.
Fifteen minutes. She can do this. Steve will be fine.
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He keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer, impressed she manages to zip up the eight floors in such a short time. Eventually he looks back out over the city, feigning a sip from his already empty glass, trying to look as inconspicuous as can be as he glances back in at the party. Luckily the Senator's still there, not showing any signs that he plans to leave. Hopefully it'll stay that way.
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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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