Chinese. That's what they had called it after the Widow's cooking attempts were a clear failure. A failure in terms of cooking yes but nearly a failure in terms of the reason it was burnt. It was an obvious ploy. But an effective one nonetheless. Best to play along with it.

The food had little nutritional value and after a plate it did little to satiate the endless hunger. There would have to be much more for this to really help. It's smell was full of ingredients completely new to her and the taste was explosive. Too bad food had never been part of her training. She wasn't completely sure what a foodie was, as Sandwiches had put it, but Three had a feeling she was on her way to becoming one if it was what she thought it was.

"Here," Rogers said, scooping up some more noodles from the large cardboard box and heaping it onto her plate, "If you're anything like me then one plate definitely isn't gonna cut it."

Three ducked her head but didn't say anything. There was no way she was going to turn down more food. It was absolutely delicious compared to the nutrition packs and hard not to shovel it in. She let herself eat quickly but wasn't reduced to the art of stuffing your face with as much as possible in a single bite.

The second plate was gone and still she hadn't been given permission to speak. What were the clearances? What could she do and what couldn't she do? What were they expecting of her? A scared child? A rebellious teenager? What did they want? So many questions. No answers to be seen. They didn't seem to have any idea as to what they expected from her.

"Permission to speak?" Three kept her eyes averted and tried to relax her body in vain. More often than not, the look of trying to appear one way emphasized the trait you're attempting to hide.

There was a sickening moment of silence. Damn it. She shouldn't have said anything. There was little known about these people in their domestic life. Yes, they were heros in the medias' propoganda light but one never knew what people were like behind closed doors. Like so many before them, they may seem to have a weak constitution to what needed to be done and a strong standing in places of morals to everyone but may very well be just as disgusting as the rest of humanity behind closed doors.

--

Steve could feel his heart sink into his gut. That was why she had been silent for this whole time. Why would she need permission? What had these people done to her? Did he really want to know?

To distract himself, he cleared his throat and piled more food on her plate, "You never need permission to talk to us, Nadia."

"Any time you want to talk, you can." Natasha refilled glasses with water. "You can talk about anything you want."

The girl seemed to think for a moment, mulling it over in her mind before she nodded. "What are my other clearances?" She didn't believe them when they said anything. Her body was still as taut as a bow string despite her attempts to look otherwise.

Both parents looked at each other, they hadn't exactly thought that far.

"How about you ask and we'll answer." Nat replied, glancing at Steve for affirmation. He nodded. A good plan.

"Where can I go?"

Good. One they had discussed. Steve sat back into his chair, "Anywhere in the tower for now. Unless you can't unlock the door with your handprint then you can go in. I'd suggest not going into any of the other living spaces unless invited."

"Once we're sure Hydra isn't actively trying to find you then we'll see about going beyond the tower." Nat added, sipping her glass of water. Vodka would have been nice but she wasn't sure if that would make Nadia uncomfortable at all.

More silence. Nadia started to eat the food on her plate before looking up. "When is it permissible to ask questions?"

"Anytime." Both parents answered. Even if the kid woke them up in the dead of night they knew they'd be willing to talk.

She continued eating, her shoulders slowly losing the tension. Her eyes had gone back to their lackluster state of compliance.

Natasha did well not to stare despite the desire. Was this what happened when every part of your life is controlled from birth? In the KGB programs, she herself had no choice but to submit but she had been shown a better way since then. Someone had helped her. Could they do that for this girl? Or was it too late?

The girl didn't trust them yet. Not enough to say no or show any opinion. To be expected. But had she really been beaten down so far during her life she had so easily transferred Hydra's power over her to them? No. Wanda said she hated Hydra. Wanted escape. This was a silent planner. One who only gave away what she wanted to give. Nothing more and nothing less. So what was her plan?

--

Three polished off her plate of food. Talk about anything? Talk to them anytime? Go anywhere in the tower? What was this? Where were the restrictions?

Something wasn't right. They must be tricking her. Eventually they would reveal it only to punish her and torture her in some way. Then they'd find out about her faulty pain receptors and… what? She didn't know. Unimportant. What was important was the mission. Nothing more.

The mission. Was it her mission? Or Maslovi's? Were they the same? What would be her deciding factor?