[No explanation needed. Natasha appreciates the proactive approach; not everyone does their homework enough to reach out if they have questions. Hell, not everyone seems to have questions in the first place.
Natasha's response comes promptly and in kind. She monitors her communications closely.]
Hi. Homelander, huh?
[She'd call it on the nose, but she literally works with Captain America.]
Ah, I don't, actually. Though I gotta say this place is kinda testing my resolve on that.
[Still, he isn't willing to let his guard down. It's less about maintaining the image of the perfect hero at this point, and more about keeping a tight rein on himself. This place already challenges his self-control on a regular fucking basis.]
But I'd be happy to talk over a drink. I'll just have water, or a glass of OJ.
[Natasha makes a mental note of that, taking in the smile and the way he demurs. Strangely enough, in her experience with enhanced people—some of whom have pretty squeaky clean images—she hasn't actually met many who abstained from alcohol.
Not many in Hell either.
That might reflect on something about her company or lifestyle.]
[He makes the decision to wear civilian clothes. He hasn't worn anything but his suit in years, and frankly, going without it makes him feel weird and exposed, but, he doesn't want to stand out too much. Sometimes you need to show that you're a person, not just a superhero.
He opts for a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and arrives at the kitchen shortly afterwards, looking just vaguely uncomfortable.]
[There's nothing further from Natasha, but she's waiting for him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a competent air. She's not unkempt, but he might have the impression she came from a workout, hair braided back out of her face and dressed for freedom of movement.
She spends a lot of time in the gym, and lately even more so.
She offers him a smile when he appears, one eyebrow cocked.]
[She shakes his hand confidently, with a professional air—cool and firm without trying to fight for dominance and not lingering a second too long. Natasha has shaken a lot of hands.]
Natasha is fine. Doesn't make much sense to stand on formality around here.
[And no reason to pretend he doesn't already know her first name, same way he knew her last.]
[She appreciates it. Especially in business. Natasha has a lot of practice dancing around an issue, but that doesn't mean she'd wouldn't rather not.
Of course, that doesn't means she's not going to be cagey, but there's different kinds of forthright.]
Depends what you want to talk about. There's really no saying where's safe and where isn't—as a rule I try to have these conversations face to face, but otherwise...
[She shrugs. It really comes down to how much he wants to risk other residents running into them.]
[He nods. That's about the impression he's gotten -- it might be pointless to try and hide from the force that already seems to know all of their dirty little secrets.
Still, maximizing privacy isn't a bad idea, and he doesn't particularly like the hotel.]
Oh, if you like this you're going to love it when it starts raining fire and blood.
[Which it will, if seasons in hell are anything like the staff has led Natasha to believe. She pushes away from the counter and tips her head toward the door.]
[Considering the guy's overall style, it'd probably be a slumber party where you have to braid each other's hair and maybe trade handjobs to avoid getting eaten by flesh-crawling slugs, all while learning an Important Lesson.
This place is like... a cheap porno wrapped in a B-horror movie, guest starring Barney the fucking dinosaur.]
That's hardly surprising. Narcissists usually see themselves in those sorts of terms—when they receive criticism, it's either because they see themselves as uniquely misunderstood or uniquely responsible. Sometimes both at once.
[The important detail in either case is that it's all about them and their emotional experience.]
[He kinda likes this, psychoanalyzing Lucifer. It is possible to be uniquely misunderstood, though, when your situation is unique. Not that Homelander is feeling particularly sympathetic towards the guy or anything.]
You study abnormal psychology, or do you know the type from personal experience?
[Psychological profiles have become a distinctly smaller part of Natasha's job description since she transitioned from being a spy to an Avenger, but there was a time when identifying potential threats and targets was a large part of her job.
Which is not something she's necessarily in a hurry to air. It's not personal, but secrecy can become a habit.
A fact that more than one of Natasha's friends or colleagues has pointed out to her with varying levels of humor or frustration at one time or another.]
I'm not about to open a practice, if that's what you're thinking.
[For his part, Homelander just smiles. He doesn't naturally laugh very often, and he has a feeling it's better not to press his luck getting too performative around the ex-spy. She seems pretty sharp.
Which is also why he avoids going into a speech about how great and important friendship is. He's not sure he's ever had friends, in the traditional sense of the word.]
A support network.
[Maybe that's a bit overly clinical way of putting it, and maybe she'll appreciate the directness.]
[There's no sign that his summary bothers her. Natasha might be using the term friend a little generously here.]
Exactly. Things are going to get in your head, you're going to be hurt, you're going to end up compromised.
When that happens, it's better to have someone in your corner.
[Whether that means getting you back to your room if you're bleeding or cleaning up the mess after some kind of outburst. Or just acting as a character witness after you try to murder someone in your sleep.]
[There's a bit of stiffness in his jaw, as if something about this turn of the conversation troubles him, but he doesn't let his mind drift there.
He's been managing decently, so far. He'd rather not think about getting... compromised.]
You got good people in your corner?
[He would assume so; anybody with any kind of strategic thinking would make alliances a priority. But she doesn't seem like the type to easily open up, either.]
[That tension doesn't go unnoticed, but Natasha doesn't comment on it; being tense at the prospect of mind control or drugs seems like a reasonable enough reaction.]
I'm lucky. I have people here from my team back home.
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Natasha's response comes promptly and in kind. She monitors her communications closely.]
Hi. Homelander, huh?
[She'd call it on the nose, but she literally works with Captain America.]
I think something can be arranged. You drink?
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Ah, I don't, actually. Though I gotta say this place is kinda testing my resolve on that.
[Still, he isn't willing to let his guard down. It's less about maintaining the image of the perfect hero at this point, and more about keeping a tight rein on himself. This place already challenges his self-control on a regular fucking basis.]
But I'd be happy to talk over a drink. I'll just have water, or a glass of OJ.
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[Natasha makes a mental note of that, taking in the smile and the way he demurs. Strangely enough, in her experience with enhanced people—some of whom have pretty squeaky clean images—she hasn't actually met many who abstained from alcohol.
Not many in Hell either.
That might reflect on something about her company or lifestyle.]
How about coffee? We can meet in the kitchen.
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[He makes the decision to wear civilian clothes. He hasn't worn anything but his suit in years, and frankly, going without it makes him feel weird and exposed, but, he doesn't want to stand out too much. Sometimes you need to show that you're a person, not just a superhero.
He opts for a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, and arrives at the kitchen shortly afterwards, looking just vaguely uncomfortable.]
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She spends a lot of time in the gym, and lately even more so.
She offers him a smile when he appears, one eyebrow cocked.]
Right on time. Homelander, you said?
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[He smiles back and walks over, holds his hand out.]
And what do I call you?
[Miss Romanoff strikes him as a bit too stiff and old-fashioned.]
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Natasha is fine. Doesn't make much sense to stand on formality around here.
[And no reason to pretend he doesn't already know her first name, same way he knew her last.]
It sounded like you had some questions.
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She seems to like the direct approach. Straight to business, then.]
I do.
[He keeps his tone on the warm side of professional.]
Do we talk here, or should we take it someplace more private?
[He's seen talk of a surveillance system. Two of them, in fact.]
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Of course, that doesn't means she's not going to be cagey, but there's different kinds of forthright.]
Depends what you want to talk about. There's really no saying where's safe and where isn't—as a rule I try to have these conversations face to face, but otherwise...
[She shrugs. It really comes down to how much he wants to risk other residents running into them.]
We can take this for a walk if you want, though.
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Still, maximizing privacy isn't a bad idea, and he doesn't particularly like the hotel.]
I wouldn't mind taking a walk.
Weather seems nice.
[He shoots her a little smile.]
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[Which it will, if seasons in hell are anything like the staff has led Natasha to believe. She pushes away from the counter and tips her head toward the door.]
I can give you the tour.
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[He smiles, waiting for her to take the lead on the tour and happy to fall in stride.]
Fire and blood. Wow. That, uh... sounds dramatic.
[Really fucking over the top and messy. It'd sure make flying around a hell of a lot of fun.]
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[Natasha doesn't have a problem taking the lead, walking confidently as she turns down the corridor toward the lobby.]
Lucifer has a flair for it. Wait until he throws his first party. There will be dress up and everything.
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[Considering the guy's overall style, it'd probably be a slumber party where you have to braid each other's hair and maybe trade handjobs to avoid getting eaten by flesh-crawling slugs, all while learning an Important Lesson.
This place is like... a cheap porno wrapped in a B-horror movie, guest starring Barney the fucking dinosaur.]
What's your overall impression of him?
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[Natasha has seen a few of those in their time. While it could be called criticism, the way she says it is impersonal—almost diagnostic.]
In other ways, he's not quite so easily defined. He's got a lot of power, but if you listen to him he's as much a prisoner here as we are.
I'm sure he sees it that way.
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As for being a prisoner himself... well, that's interesting.]
He seems pretty determined to sell himself as benevolent and misunderstood.
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[The important detail in either case is that it's all about them and their emotional experience.]
It's not less true if there's some truth to it.
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[He kinda likes this, psychoanalyzing Lucifer. It is possible to be uniquely misunderstood, though, when your situation is unique. Not that Homelander is feeling particularly sympathetic towards the guy or anything.]
You study abnormal psychology, or do you know the type from personal experience?
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[Psychological profiles have become a distinctly smaller part of Natasha's job description since she transitioned from being a spy to an Avenger, but there was a time when identifying potential threats and targets was a large part of her job.
Which is not something she's necessarily in a hurry to air. It's not personal, but secrecy can become a habit.
A fact that more than one of Natasha's friends or colleagues has pointed out to her with varying levels of humor or frustration at one time or another.]
I'm not about to open a practice, if that's what you're thinking.
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If there's one thing this place could really use, it's a good shrink.
[Obviously, he's joking around, but... well it's not like he's wrong, is it?]
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[She doesn't quite laugh, but there's a change in her tone, a sort of lighter archness that somehow communicates what a chuckle might have.
She snorts then.]
That said, it's not a bad idea to make some friends. People who can talk too when shit hits the fan.
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Which is also why he avoids going into a speech about how great and important friendship is. He's not sure he's ever had friends, in the traditional sense of the word.]
A support network.
[Maybe that's a bit overly clinical way of putting it, and maybe she'll appreciate the directness.]
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Exactly. Things are going to get in your head, you're going to be hurt, you're going to end up compromised.
When that happens, it's better to have someone in your corner.
[Whether that means getting you back to your room if you're bleeding or cleaning up the mess after some kind of outburst. Or just acting as a character witness after you try to murder someone in your sleep.]
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Yeah. You're right.
[There's a bit of stiffness in his jaw, as if something about this turn of the conversation troubles him, but he doesn't let his mind drift there.
He's been managing decently, so far. He'd rather not think about getting... compromised.]
You got good people in your corner?
[He would assume so; anybody with any kind of strategic thinking would make alliances a priority. But she doesn't seem like the type to easily open up, either.]
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I'm lucky. I have people here from my team back home.
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