He throws his head back and laughs when she puts the ears on. There are still circles under his eyes. They are his special version blue and not red raw like they were on the security tapes she'd scrutinized or in the face that turned on her bow in hand but they are tired and lined.
"Hot damn Red! That's a look and a half."
She pulls them off and shakes out her curls.
"Shut it Barton." He puts his hand to his mouth as he laughs the seam of a vein running down his forearm up his bicep and under his t- shirt.
"You put them on. You actually put them on. I gotta get a picture. Nat put 'em back on so I can get a picture."
"Put them on yourself." She swings the offending hat around on her finger as she speaks. "These don't even have my name on them. Did you steal them from a passing child?"
"Always with the accusations. I figured Nancy was a good cover name."
"Nancy? In 1968 Nancy would be a good cover."
"I could call you Nan."
"Right. And I get to call you what exactly? Biff? Chip?" She asks pulling the names from memories of American TV shows that formed part of a training program that was the exact opposite of the pearls and twinsets she'd watched with calculating eyes.
"Sexy?" He smirks at her again raising his brows suggestively. There is so much noise, tinny sounds of music pumped through loud speakers, children squealing and adults arguing. The crowds and the noise are putting her on edge. She'd be more comfortable in a busy market in Marakesh with a mark and an objective than here in this.
"You wish."
"Why'd ya put them on?" His voice lowers and takes on the serious growl that she'd rather not hear. "Not in a million years did I think you were actually gonna put them on." He shakes his head and his eyebrows lower. Stupid man always looking for patterns.
"There is some kind of ride that we are supposed to ride here, yes? With tea cups?" She replies nonchalantly turning down the main street to look at the sheer number of pink items that cram into the view.
"Come back here you," he says but doesn't grab at her instead stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Why'd you put the ears on Nancy?"
"Why not?" she says as she turns back to him.
"Because it's beneath you? Because I wanted you too? Because you have too much grace and class for my kinda shit?" He purses his lips slightly and looks like he is chewing on the inside of his cheek.
"It isn't important." She shrugs and finds herself tucking her own hands into her pockets in a mimicry of his body language. She knows it's designed to make other people trust you and yet she catches herself doing it and knows it was not intentional, it was not a choice, she follows him and always has.
"You pitying me?" he asks raising his chin.
"I wanted to see you smile."
"You wanted to see me smile?" he repeats like he did not hear her.
"It's not that complicated."
"You put the ears on 'cause you wanted to see me smile?" He grins and maybe it is worth the pain of him repeating her words over and over in his incredulous and victorious voice. There is stubble along his jaw line and his top lip.
"Will you stop saying that if I kiss you?"
"In public?" he asks his tongue pokes from between his lips for a second.
"Will you be silent?" she whispers as she pushes herself up on the balls of her feet.
"As the grave," he mummers back grazing his lips against hers.
