[Things could be worse. They could be trapped in some Siberian shit hole with nothing at all to keep them warm, but pure will and flimsy hope. This could have been not so many years ago when her survival was paramount over anyone else's. She's not the same as she once was, she's better, more compassionate and there are time, yes, that she wonders if that is better, but she made her choices. For the most part she's content with them. He should, additionally, be grateful it's her, and not someone else like perhaps Barton, who would probably never dream of putting himself in a position like this. She's almost sure he'd rather die than risk possibly being caught naked with Tony.
So there's that.
Dear god, he's ticklish? That is humorous, if she were felling in a more playful mood she might exploit that weakness a little, but for now she files the knowledge away for a later date- in case there is a later date. If things go well, there could be a later date, maybe. By well, obviously, that would mean they didn't die, of course.
She's easy going and considerate of his trepidation, sympathetic even, she knows she's not the easiest person to get along with, and that at times she can come across as cold and frightening. Allowing him his careful exploration she doesn't hold it against him that he's being cautious, hell she actually sort of applauds him for it. She would definitely wonder what was going on if he dove in head long.
Mmmthere see? He touched her and his hand didn't melt off, or get amputated cleanly by some weapon she had hidden somewhere best left to the imagination. Her skin is soft and warm-ish, under his hand. To her he feels at least a few degrees warmer than she does, which is reassuring, since she's more used to being cold, and more able to handle it.
She wets her lips, gazing back at him with bright eyes and an expression that is equal parts relief and interest.]
Good. I'm fine, but if you wish to try I'm sure I could always be better.
[And so it seems, 'better' has become the comfortable choice of words for whatever it is that is going on here. Funny how that works out.]
I scared myself off with my terrible writing.
So there's that.
Dear god, he's ticklish? That is humorous, if she were felling in a more playful mood she might exploit that weakness a little, but for now she files the knowledge away for a later date- in case there is a later date. If things go well, there could be a later date, maybe. By well, obviously, that would mean they didn't die, of course.
She's easy going and considerate of his trepidation, sympathetic even, she knows she's not the easiest person to get along with, and that at times she can come across as cold and frightening. Allowing him his careful exploration she doesn't hold it against him that he's being cautious, hell she actually sort of applauds him for it. She would definitely wonder what was going on if he dove in head long.
Mmmthere see? He touched her and his hand didn't melt off, or get amputated cleanly by some weapon she had hidden somewhere best left to the imagination. Her skin is soft and warm-ish, under his hand. To her he feels at least a few degrees warmer than she does, which is reassuring, since she's more used to being cold, and more able to handle it.
She wets her lips, gazing back at him with bright eyes and an expression that is equal parts relief and interest.]
Good. I'm fine, but if you wish to try I'm sure I could always be better.
[And so it seems, 'better' has become the comfortable choice of words for whatever it is that is going on here. Funny how that works out.]