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It was rare to see Natasha wandering the Avengers facility. She tended to steer clear of the place, and even if she did intend on staying there for an elongated period of time, which in itself was highly unlikely to ever occur, she had too much on her agenda to stay grounded in one place in particular for more than a couple of days at a time. She was always busy, always cleaning up somebody else's mess in order to wipe just that little bit more red from her ledger. If the boys needed her they could find her, but up until now her personal work hadn't interfered with anything the team had planned to do. Nevertheless, the place was always crowded and the Russian was one whom enjoyed her personal space, perhaps a little more than most, so it was probably best for them all that she kept her distance.

Upon arriving she had thrown what few belongings, which for the most part consisted of clothes, in to the cold, empty, white-washed room that had been designated hers quite a while ago. Natasha had just returned from what had been a somewhat uneventful job with a well-known client. She had worked for the bald, wizened old man several times in the past and returned unscathed, however this time the extraction had gotten somewhat complicated due to her own incompetence. She had let herself grow distracted and had received a nasty looking scratch on the side of her face upon doing so. Of course she would never admit that it was her best friend whom had been the cause of this slip up - the way in which he consumed every inch of her thoughts when she wasn't forcibly shutting him out was both comforting and frustrating for the woman whom was used to being so detached from everyone and everything.

Instead of texting the archer to inform him of her arrival as she would have usually done after a mission she headed towards the kitchen - if there was food in, which was unlikely given the people that shared the housing facilities here, then it was the place she was most likely to find him. Food, dogs and archery; they were the three most important things in Clint's life and after first meeting her best friend they were three things that she would never forget about him.

As she spotted the muscular man before her she allowed herself a quick grin before quickly straightening her face to that familiar, ice-cold expression once again. She couldn't let herself be seen doing so however. Emotion was weakness, and right now she was weak enough - allowing a man to cloud her judgement and consequently affect her performance in the job which she was best at. She had a reputation to live up to and she couldn't let that slip in the slightest. She was the notorious Black Widow, not a mere woman.

"Isn't it a bit early to be starting on the drink, Barton?" She asked, slender frame lingering in the doorway as she offered him nothing more than a one sided smile in greeting.

She had never been one for words but rather actions - yet even then there was very little any more than capable spy could read from Natasha's body language if she didn't want them to. It was involuntary that she hid how she felt, a reflex action after everything the Red Room had caused her to become, yet she always found she could be herself with the agent who had made a different call. 

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He had been watching the petite, scarlet girl from a quite a distance since she had begun her daily training. Observing every fluent movement that she made with her fragile hands with his piercing blue eyes. It was his duty as the son of the King of Asgard to watch over the people of Midgard - or as the people here referred to it, Earth - as well as the other eight realms, but he found himself focusing on one girl in one realm in particular. The power that she possessed was mightier than she was, mightier than they would probably ever know, but she had to learn to get to grips with it otherwise she could endanger the people around her rather than save them. Luckily, she was in just the right place to do so.

Along with himself there was also Vision. He had also grown particularly close to Wanda in the month that he had been around the Avengers, but the Asgardian didn't trust the man - or whatever he was supposed to be. He had been created by Tony Stark, a man that since Thor had known him had created more trouble with his inventions than anything else. It was not that he saw Vision as a danger quite yet, but with powers as destructive as the ones that he possessed one wrong move could cause the death of the Midguardians that this outsider had grown so fond of.

Yet upon passing he always greeted him kindly - that was just how he had been raised. Courtesy was one of the most valuble gifts one could possess after all. "Ah, Vision! I trust you are doing well? Have you seen Lady Wanda? I wish to speak to her about her gift."

Nodding to the large man before him, Vision held out his hand and motioned in the direction of the young woman's room. "I believe Wanda has returned to her room following training."

Not wanting to linger any longer than was necessary the Asgardian made his way towards the accommodation which held the Avengers when they were present in the facility. To his knowledge Wanda spent the majority of her time in this building, and when she wasn't here she was accompanied by at least another Avenger just to ensure the safety of everyone. She wasn't a dangerous woman and she had no intentions to harm anyone, and that was just one reason Thor wanted to assist her in learning to control her powers.

Raising his mighty fist to the meager wooden door which separated her room from the empty hallway Thor knocked, taking care to be especially gentle - there had been a couple of incidents in the past in which he had knocked on a door and consequently sent his fist straight through it. 

"Lady Wanda?" He bellowed, deep voice ringing throughout the walls as he did. "It is I, Thor."
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