The compound was quiet at this hour. Most of the team had turned in, but the common room still glowed faintly from the light above the stove.

Natasha Romanoff sat alone at the kitchen island, a half-empty glass of water in front of her. She hadn't touched it in minutes. Her eyes were fixed on nothing in particular, but her posture was wound tight. A coiled wire.

She'd seen you come in. Of course she had. She always noticed. The way you moved through the room like you were trying not to disturb the air.

She didn't look up when you sat down across from her. Didn't speak. Just stared at that glass like it might tell her something she wanted to hear.