Natasha was relieved when he confirmed that their ride was waiting, but she huffed out a sigh when he proceeded to tell her they had to wait before they slipped out. He was right, of course, they had to be there for the headcount, but she always hated the waiting part. As a marksman he may have had all the patience in the world, but Natasha certainly didn’t.

“They are certainly taking their sweet time,” she grumbled, turning her face to lean her forehead against Clint’s chest while she fingered the gun in her pocket. She kept an ear out for anything out of the ordinary, listening in on little snippets of conversation around her, but so far it was just the inane and annoyed conversation of the hotel guests.