"Thor Odinson!"

Izabella jumps behind Banner, looking on as the demigod attempts to hide behind Barton.

Svetlana steps back, watching as Jane storms directly for the large blonde. As long as this person is not a threat to her empowered niece, the woman can stay.

Clint swats Thor away;

"What did you do bro?!"

"I proposed!" Thor nearly fumbles over his words.

Jane laughs, the couple circling each other around the living room, "You did much more than that!"

They circle, Jane on one side- Thor on the other maintaining equal distance between them.

"I know not why you have arrived with such fury," Thor attempts to laugh it off.

Jane hits a nearby pillow and moves to throw it in his direction;

"Yes you do, god damn it! I just flew across the world-! By old fashion airplane if you're curious! Because! You weren't in New York! So now! You owe me $2,000 and a vitamin c for flying STANDBY and sitting in the middle seat with no elbow room!"

"How did you find me?!" Thor dodges.

"It was easy,' she pauses to lean forward, 'I followed the stench of abandonment and the trail of pop tart crumbs!"

"Woah, woah! Easy!" Bruce interrupts to take Svetlana's turquoise vase out of Jane's grip.

"Y'all really can't take this outside? It's Christmas," Clint grumbles.

Jane shouts, blowing her long stray hair from her eye, "Tell them what you did Thor. Tell them!"

He stammers, adjusting his sweater, "I do not know-!"

"You left me with your mother! Alone! With your mother!"

Thor stands taller, "My mother is a wonderful queen, you dare not speak of her in some horrid way!"

Svetlana taps Jane's shoulder, rubbing kindly, "What did stupid man do?! You tell me and we beat him."

"Can we skip 'beating'," Bruce holds his head, trying to prevent any escalations.

Jane nods, narrowing her focus on Thor across the room, "You."

The demigod shakes his head, "I do not understand-!"

"How about, we all sit down, breathe for a moment, and you guys talk this through back at the shack?" Bruce offers.

Barton laughs, "Nah, I like the idea of a beating much better. Hit Thor, Izabella."

She panics, "I not hit!"

Svetlana reaches for Jane's face in all seriousness, "What he do! You tell me."

Jane breaks with a sniffle, sinking into the stranger's arm, "He left me! Up in Asgard with his dysfunctional family. And a head of some animal!"

"You enjoyed the feast!" Thor refutes.

"I'm talking!" Jane wipes her nose with the back of her hand, "And then he proposed but it was awful, and I was so embarrassed. I couldn't think straight so I said 'no', in front of everyone. There were so many people!"

Bruce hides in his hands. Clint is laughing.

The demigod shrugs defensively, "It was ceremonial! It's tradition!"

Jane throws her arms in the air, "And then I ran inside- he didn't follow me-!"

Barton whispers in Thor's ear. "Even I know you follow."

"She wished to be left alone!"

"You follow," Bruce covers his mouth with a mumble.

Jane tugs at a button on her jacket, tears streaming down her cheek while Svetlana holds her shoulders;

"And then I went to find him, and his father told me he left for business! What the hell does that even mean, right?! How was I supposed to get home?! I didn't know he was coming back here without me! So I, stayed there! With the storms raging because he was throwing a tantrum. I stayed with his friends until they had a war in another realm. And then I was with his mother and his psycho brother she insists on visiting…because he's in prison."

Svetlana nods despite being absolutely mortified and barely following along.

"And then,' Jane sniffed, 'I started getting really sick, everyday. Every. Day. So they took me to their medic who I had to beg to see because…I'm a human, and it was awful."

Thor's face drops with concern, "Are you unwell? Are you alright?"

Her head turns slowly, death in her stare as she grits her teeth, "No! I'm not alright! I'm pregnant! Thor! TWINS- It turns out. At least according to your creepy mediocre medicine woman."

Clint pinches his eyes, unable to restrain his laughter, "Wow. My God man...You're in some deep shit. Merry Christmas."

"Deep shit?" Izabella whispers in confusion.

Bruce panics with a soft scolding, "Don't repeat that. Or anything else Clint says."

Barton glares at Banner, "You're doing it again…"

Bruce bites his lip, "Sorry, sorry."

Thor sinks, losing his footing with a blank expression, "I'm...I wish for air."

Svetlana reaches for Jane's hand, the most accepting figure she's been exposed to the past few days, "I make you warm drink? Come sit, yes?"

Natasha holds a hand over the banister and takes a deep breath in. Dressed in an elegant a-line, she tugs at the sleeve with her free hand and makes her way down the stairs.

The forest green provides some sort of odd comfort and familiarity. Had Bruce known this dress was in her suitcase back in Italy, they'd have some sort of banter over who she liked better between him and his other half and end up laughing about it.

Natasha grins to herself over the thought, shifting her focus to Alexei.

With an upturned chin she taps at the subtle pin in her hair and focuses on him with her lips outlined in red. He reaches for a hand that she pulls away.

Natasha shifts over the elongated pause that follows, unsure of how to respond. She glances over the guests that currently occupy their main lobby and has already begun her interrogation by analyzing their every move.

Alexei leans in to pinch her hip. She glares, once more ready to kick him.

"If you try anything…" he says with a grin.

She returns the smirk, talking through her teeth and moves to crush his foot underneath her sharp heel, "You'll be too busy helping Ivan with whatever this is for to even care that I'm in the room."

He only glares, "I plan to keep you close."

"You're just begging for another toe crushing."

She snickers and reaches her hand out to the upcoming guest who shakes it firmly.

Her eyes refocus from Alexei to the man in front of her with thick English accent;

"And who is this lovely woman, in one of my favorite shades of green."

Alexei starts but Natasha cuts him off, "Natalia, I'm glad someone likes it."

"My wife," Alexei interrupts with an arm around her waist that is quickly played off between the couple.

The man nods politely, "I'm honored to meet you Mrs. Shoshtakov."

She forces a smile despite an odd sense of discomfort rolling up her spine. Natasha recognizes his face though a lack of sleep, appetite, and energy won't allow her to recall why;

"I didn't get your name?"

He grins, fingers stroking hers in their shake, "You may call me Emil."

Alexei whispers into her ear as she adjusts her hair and Emil moves on. He points to another man in a gray suit, "He looks suspicious to you, no?"

"You all look suspicious," she mumbles, even if Alexei seems to be in a decent mood.

"And you look thin."

"Since when do you care?"

"We're not different, you and I."

Natasha grumbles over his remark and moves to pour herself a shot of vodka. Alexei's hand stacks over hers in a block and grabs the glass. She takes a breath when he offers her a poured shot.

"At least I don't exploit children," her head tilts toward Riley in the corner.

"You shoot the parents," he pours another for himself.

She bites at the remark, moving to grab the bottle.

He mumbles in reply, "You didn't have to choose SHIELD. There are groups doing good in the world."

Natasha scoffs, looking him up and down. With a twist in her jaw she clutches her glass for her third shot, "Are you offering me a job? Maybe if you asked me to work for you before shouting at me, trying to completely break me, I might've listened."

Alexei shifts in his stance to face her, "You're curious. But. You would rather be in news while countries suffer."

Her eyebrows lower, "I didn't realize you cared so much about doing something good."

"I do more good than you."

Her fingers trace over the glass, "I don't mindlessly go out into the field and take out the targets I'm told to. I left the Red Room. And I escaped the organization I think you're still tied to."

"You joined something worse," he sets his glass on the wet bar, eyes fixated on her.

Natasha pushes her own glass away and moves to cross her arms, "Did Ivan tell you to stay away after the accident?"

He doesn't say a word, vacantly staring out towards the guests he's managed to keep her from.

"You're dodging me. Yeshche raz ," She nods in frustration, scanning the room.

"And you hide from me."

She stands and moves for the main dining room when Ivan makes his announcement for everyone to follow. Alexei's attempt and holding her arm is in vain when she tugs away from him and walks purposely faster to claim a set right next to Emil.

The Brit grins and pulls out the chair for her. Natasha scoffs lightly, "I can handle myself."

He grins, "Charming."

Natasha takes up the butter knife with a fleeting thought of stabbing every man at the table...she reaches to stab a roll instead.

Ivan calls down from the head of the table, interrupting Natasha's large first bite when he calls for Olga to bring the girls in.

Natasha chokes up her bite, napkin over her mouth with a subtle gag when Olga complies.

The spy would rather the two children stay far from a table full of assumed criminals. Apparently, Olga doesn't share the sentiment. She is all too eager to show them off.

Natasha takes in the group's reaction, suspicious over Emil speaking up first to address Riley now sitting across from him;

"What is your name?"

The elder girl stares, her feet hovering over the floor in her chair, "Riley."

"And how old are you?"

She swallows, "10?"

Natasha twirls her knife, biting the butter off the tip with a narrowing focus over the man in blue currently beside the girl. She's yet to get his name, or a reason why Ivan would want the two children invited to a fancy dinner in the dining room typically locked in weeks prior.

Ivan tucks his hand points with a potatoe on his fork, "This one reminds me of Natalia, when she was small."

Romanoff scoffs and sips her water. At ten, she was doing far more than housekeeping.

"Where are you from Riley?" Another man asks.

She takes a roll he offers, somewhat amused to have all attention currently on her, "New Mexico."

Emil grins, "It's a wonderful place. A little dry."

Natasha abandons the water and pours herself wine instead. Her eyebrows lift this time, conscious of her face;

"You've been to New Mexico?"

"Once or twice. My wife prefers Argentina," he adds, a seemingly unimportant detail being that Romanoff has already decided this is a single man.

He's lying, so easily.

Natasha lowers her glass, sitting back as the mob continues to interrogate Riley. The chaotic map in her mind stays straight as she attaches each question to the corresponding asker. The way the man beside her talks makes Natasha suspicious the most. And she knows she is not the only one mentally noting every detail.

The more Emil talks, the more she makes her connections despite a seventh drink of the night and no sleep.

KGB. Air Force base. She's read his file a thousand times over.

The connection causes her fork to almost slip from her hand and pause in her movement. She's ready to throw up what few bites she's eaten. Because of course she would find herself sitting next to her husband's 'best friend' throughout this experience.

Riley answers every scholastic question, eager to go off in detail and update the group on her latest history class. She is enjoying proving everyone wrong, clearly trying to be the smartest person in the room. It's a Natasha lesson, Romanoff assumes. The redhead is proud of her. Riley is small but she's fierce.

Natasha lays an elbow on the table, acting on an impulsive thought;

"Sorry Riley, being born in Russia sometimes my knowledge of American history fails me."

"You are a spy. Proficient in most every topic," Ivan remarks and it incites a bit of laughter from the table.

"I'm only trying to engage her in conversation,' Natasha ignores and pushes forward, 'You were talking about the various designs of the American flag and gosh, who was that to create the first version? What was her name? Betty?"

Riley chuckles almost sarcastically, "Wait you really don't remember? Are you talking about Betsy Ross? The lady we only spent one chapter on?"

Natasha points with every move calculated, "An underrated woman. I personally feel, most are when we're talking about the start of American history. It's an abomination how some of these women receive less spotlight and praise for being such geniuses in their field. Poor Ross ."

She returns to her meal after shamelessly poking the tiger, keeping one eye on Emil to watch for a reaction.

Checkmate .

The man accepts her remarks with a nod and an uncomfortable shifting in his seat with a seemingly equally calculated response;

"There are always two sides to every story my dear. I'd be happy to share 'England's' version of the tale sometime. Perhaps, not at the table where we'd bore our host and his company."

She returns the gesture as the rest of the guests force an oblivious laugh, her eyes narrow bravely, "I look forward to it."

Bruce goes outside to locate Thor after giving the man his space to calm down. The demigod has yet to move for the past hour, sitting outside on the steps of the small home of the Mikhailov's.

Banner takes a seat on the step behind Thor, shoving his cold hands into the coat pockets, "I've never seen you so quiet."

Thor coughs up a smile and looks over his shoulder, "Greetings Banner, it is all a lot to, mull over."

"Yeah."

"I know not what I've done wrong to cause her to reject me. I did try, you know. I love her…It is quite a shame she wishes me dead."

Bruce tugs at the back of his neck, "She's calmed down a ton."

"I am to be a father,' Thor gestures dramatically, 'This should be a joyous occasion. I only wish to celebrate with Jane, not fight."

Bruce tugs at his fingers, "You should get in there and work it out-."

Thor lowers his head, "I know not what to say. I love her! To the nine realms and back. She is the brightest star in my world and I do not wish to make things any worse."

Bruce huffs out a half laugh, smoke slipping from his mouth from the bitter Russian cold, "Tell her that."

"Is it 'too much'?"

"Look,' he shoves his hands solidly inside of his pockets, 'The whole asking her to marry you in front of the village was too much. Sharing your feelings; That's probably all she wants from you right now. She wouldn't have come all the way to Russia if she didn't want to be with you."

Thor nods, moving to stand and lay a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Such wonderful reassurance. You are wise indeed. I am truly grateful to call you my friend."

"Yeah, me too. Look um...can we go in now? Not to rush you or anything, but I'm freezing…"

"Yes! Wonderful idea, we shall return indoors. Wish me luck as I confront fair Jane."

Banner bounces his knees in an alternating pattern due to the cold and holds the door, his cheeks a bright pink, "Yep! Good luck."

"Romanoff."

Natasha pauses at the bottom of the staircase. In the quiet hall with no one else around she pivots and takes a step in his direction.

He grins, "You're a long way from home."

"I'm a big girl, I can handle myself,' she tilts her head angrily, fingers toying with the earrings now in her hand later in the evening, 'You had a lot of questions for Riley."

"She's charming, rare. Not rare enough."

Natasha meets him halfway with her arms at her sides, "Do I have to worry about you crushing her."

"Worry about yourself, my dear."

She laughs lightly, "I'm very capable. You should see what I do with a thimble."

Blonsky huffs, eyes dark, "I received word that you shot the General."

"One bullet," Natasha comments with every intent to instill just a bit of fear in him.

"I crushed her skull."

She tucks her head over his random confession as if it were some competition to be rid of the Ross family. Her stomach churns. She hates him for Bruce's sake.

Her words come spilling out,

"I saw the footage. Hulk still bested you, even with a dying wife in his arms. Too bad he couldn't finish you off."

Blonsky looks back down as he holds his cryptic grin;

"Where is, the monster?"

"I have no idea."

He smiles, "This is fascinating. Seeing an Avenger here all alone to take down the big bad?"

"What did you want with Riley," she crosses her arms.

"I want to adopt someone special."

Natasha scoffs, laughing harder than she should, "I wouldn't trust you with a goldfish."

He looks up toward the ceiling, "I have little to no interest in Riley. She's quite plain. I prefer rare things. Greener things."

Natasha turns away from him, deducing she's been targeting the wrong guest for the current mission; this is just a personal vendetta. Maybe Ivan invited him on purpose, meant to waste her time.

Natasha comments coldly, "Bruce is no doubt halfway across the world by now. I'm with Alexei. That hurt him."

"You truly expect me to believe he left you. No, my dear. I know him too well. Better than you I'm afraid to say."

Her fist clenches tighter around her earrings, eager to pull the spotlight from off of Bruce, "Does Alexei know what you are."

"We have become acquainted thanks to Petrovich. I don't care much for him. He is unintelligent, does what he is told."

"Who are Alexei and Ivan working for? You know, don't you."

"You are left in the dark." He pauses, clearly unsure of how much he should share, "Ask your…husband. The taller one."

"I'm asking you," she snaps, needing him to talk faster.

"'The enemy of my enemy'...?"

She shakes her head, "You are not a friend."

"Yet," reaches into his pocket, leaving Natasha with a scribbled code, "You will need my help."

She takes a page and watches him leave.

There is a passing thought for Betty when she reads the paper. She lacks the details of the day Elizabeth Ross died. She only knows that it happened, and because of Blonsky. Maybe because she gave this man an ounce of her trust.

Natasha circles to find Alexei.