"Hey!" said Eva, wiping her sweaty palms on her pants and extending a hand to the curator, then the graffiti artists who would be working with her on the garden they were currently stood in. "Nice to finally meet y'all."
She had wanted to know what the artists would be painting, so that she could work the flora around the designs. The two artists were intimidatingly cool in a way the hipsters at the coffee shop could only ever hope to be; dressed in paint-stained, distressed clothes and dotted with piercings and tattoos. They kicked about the overgrown plants for about half an hour, brainstorming wildly, before Eva got a phone call.
"'Scuse me," she said, jumping down off a wall for some privacy. "Sam, what is it?"
"Hey, pretty girl." His voice was distorted, as though he was driving in an open top car. "How're things?"
"Good. Working."
"Ah, same here- hang on," he said, and the background noise increased.
"Sam," she said, struggling to keep her voice level, "was that gunfire?"
"Naw!"
"It was gunfire, wasn't it?"
"Yeah."
"Why are you calling me while being shot at, Sam?" she asked exasperatedly.
"I bet War Machine twenty bucks I could do it and survive- HEY, ASSHOLE! HOW DOES MY JETSTREAM TASTE?! Sorry."
She bit her lip. "You calling me via your headset? The one that links up to the rest of y'all?"
"Uh huh."
"Can you put me through to Vision, please?"
"But-"
"Now, Sam."
"Alright, alright," he muttered, and the line crackled.
"Eva. A pleasure, as always."
"Hey, V. Can you please stop my boyfriend from killing himself in an attempt to win twenty bucks?"
"I'll do my best," said Vision, amusement in his tone. "Wanda, check your nineteen-hundred. Sorry, do you mind if I hang up? I'm a little preoccupied."
"Go ahead. Good luck with taking down the bad guys."
"Much appreciated." The line switched back to Sam, who was swearing enthusiastically. "Sam. Sam." She pursed her lips. "Falcon!"
"Wha- oh, hey baby."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're an idiot," she said weakly. "Try not to die."
"Will do," he said, and hung up.
"Sorry," said Eva, running back to her coworkers, "personal stuff."
A/N updating a day early because I'm working all day tomorrow (on a farm. No, seriously). Also, I've been listening to the Mumford and Sons cover of Not In Nottingham constantly and under no circumstances should you imagine Eva and Vision slow-bro-dancing to it unless you want to be overcome by emotions