outstandingbalance | IC Contact Post

[There's no more messages after that.

Natasha has a small garret apartment in Bavan, cramped and nondescript. It was also very cheap. It wasn't the kind of place most people would think to look for her, if they knew her.

It also takes four flights of stairs to get to it. That's a choice she might have come to regret a few times now, with her legs trying to rip themselves apart at every wrong move.]

[Promptly at six, there's no sign of anyone outside her door. There is, however, a tapping at her window. A certain someone might have taken advantage of the early sunset and built a pulley system to her window. A leather band hangs just outside her seat, appropriated from a children's swing set.

He's certainly not planning to make her take the long way down.]

[It's a bigger surprise that he managed to do this without making any noise than that he shows up at the window. When he taps at the window, she hobbles over to the the window at opens it, leaning out to see what he'd done.]

Well, you are right on time.

[He's back on the ground when she opens the window, grinning up at her.]

I set a time I knew I could reach. Hop on over. I'll lower you down.

[She gives the seat and pulley a speculative look, frowning. She isn't used to being taken care of, and doesn't like being perceived as weak. But she already agreed to this.

She's not sure it's worth backing out or trying to argue further.]

You really take this seriously. [She swings her legs out the window as she speaks, careful to keep her legs hidden under her long skirt as she does.]

What, you're in our line of work and you've never had to work with something like this before? I'm surprised.

That depends what you mean by something like this.

I can't say I've ever had to deal with accommodating involuntary transformations personally.

Well, this particular method is usually useful when transporting someone who's had some sudden spinal trauma. But yeah, I've had a decent share of the other kind too.

[He lowers her easily, until she's deposited into the comfortable caress of a wheelchair. It isn't one with handles on the back; he'd never demean her by trying to push her around.]

One of the guys I work with turns into animals. Every time he gets a cold, suddenly we're one sneeze away from having to haul a whale out of the kitchen.

[In that moment, Natasha is grateful Bruce isn't here. The last thing he needs is to go from turning into the Hulk to turning into a bear or a troll. Something like that. She doesn't comment on that though.]

I'm not usually the one who need transporting.

[She smoothes her dress again once she's settled. It advertises the fact she's uncomfortable with her legs, and she knows it, but better that than risk flashing them at passersby.]

Happens to the best of us. Or what, you're going to tell me you're so good you've never taken a bullet to the thigh?

Not that kept me off my feet. High pain tolerance, I guess.

Well then, welcome to being one of the mundane pain-feeling folk.

[He adjusts a stray piece of hair, careful to keep from scratching her with his claws. It's a small gesture, performed before he thinks about barriers and personal space.]

[She doesn't protest his touch; it's more comfortable for her than having him fuss over her condition. It's still strange how familiar he is with her, but at least he doesn't feel like a stranger anymore.]

I'd expect a little more sympathy for people who're used to being self-sufficient.

[It's like starting over, but in a way where he's sure she'll come around again. Even if he can't make her remember, it's a second chance. There aren't always second chances for people like them.]

If I threw sympathy at you, you'd think I was being fake. You deserve better than that.

Maybe. That doesn't mean I like being treated like I'm broken.

[Even though the consensus seems to be that she is. And that she's been walking anyway, despite the fact it damages her legs more.]

So where are we going. Dinner and a movie, right?

And you shouldn't. But you also know how bad an idea it is to leave injuries untreated.

[But he'll give her independence if she wants it. He'll start walking beside her, letting her utilize the chair on her own. When she sets herself in motion, he'll slow down to match her pace.]

That's the plan! Unless you'd rather have one of our usual dates, I mean. I don't know exactly what kind of kinky stuff you're into.

[Her expression tightens a bit at that. It's not really an injury.

And she doesn't know how long she'll have legs at all.]

Dinner and a movie might be a better speed. [She snorts and starts rolling the wheelchair. She'll try it. She doesn't think it'll last, but she'll try.] I get the feeling there won't be much kinky happening any time soon.

Whatever you're comfortable with. I can be patient.

[Another familiar touch, this one at her shoulder.]

And I don't mind taking a raincheck on the other stuff. I mean, you might want to swing by those sex ed classes Doc Spider is offering first.

I'm not sure sex ed helps much when the problem is that people'd be afraid to touch you.

[She's not unaware of the fact that he's touching her now. There's a far cry between that and having to deal with the fact that her legs seemed to be more or less unmaking themselves.

To say nothing of presumably very poisonous fangs.

And needle sharp claws.

These things didn't leave a girl feeling like she had a lot of options.]

And I figure a couple weeks at the most, and it won't really matter.

Do you need strangers to touch you all that often? [But they're in motion now. His fingers trail away from her then.]

I mean, if there's ever a place where people are okay with some weird additions, it's this joint. And, I mean. If you want spoilers? I've seen you go full spider already. You're every bit as hot.

I'm not sure if you're saying that to make me feel better, or you're just kinkier than I realized, but either way I have a hard time believing that. Either way... you don't know that it will be the same.

[Because she's not the same.]

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