Pravda is like a little golden coach hidden inside a Fabergé egg. Except that it's a bar not a scale replica of the Tsar's imperial coach and the outside is an inconspicuous doorway halfway down a vaguely sketchy alley.

Natasha introduced Maria to Pravda a few months ago, and Maria loves it, or at least loves it in the way that Tony loves fatherhood, enthusiastically yet apprehensive. Maria would also never be stupid enough to go there by herself, she's tolerated because she's a guest of Natalia Alianovna Romanova, a name which still carries weight in these last remaining outposts of Materii Rossii. She is about as welcome as any Italian-American Catholic Fed is welcome in what seems to be le centre du monde for all the high-powered Eastern European immigrants and their sketchy business dealings.

Natasha sat at the bar drinking vodka and eating pickles with a chess grandmaster named Arkady, the bottle of vodka resting between them, laughing at some joke he made in Russian when Maria arrived. General Karla sat off to one side, staring covetously at Natasha, though Maria is sure it had nothing to do with the curvature of Natasha's legs and everything to do with the chemicals rushing through them. Maria felt a slim rod tap against her shin and she turned, a large man sat at a table drinking vodka, eating stroganoff, and and smoking a Cuban cigar.

'Send my regards to Nikolas.' He smiled.

'Are you giving my friend trouble Valentin Dmitrovich?' Natasha yelled across the room, her tone was joking, yet there was a menacing undertone in her voice.

'I was just asking your lovely friend to pass on my regards to a mutual acquaintance.' He saluted them with the tip of his cane and motioned for Maria to pass.

'Mariska, it feels like I haven't seen you all week, between you and the complete and utter shitstorm that was Paraguay, me and Rome.' Natasha signalled the bartender to bring another glass and the jar of pickles.

'Now, what happened with the Captain?' Maria could tell from the expression Natasha had affixed to her face that Maria was either going to tell Maria or risk losing a couple of fingernails.

'I don't know.' Natasha has a finely tuned Bullshit-O-Meter of a quality that even the likes of Phil Coulson, Pepper Potts, and Nick Fury find themselves covetous. So really, Maria should know better.

'Fignya. Don't try to bullshit a bullshitter Mariska. Especially one of such a high calibre as I. If nothing else it's somewhat insulting.'

'I don't know what happened. It was like we were really good and everything was fantastic, then suddenly he was going out with Beth. I have no fucking clue what happened. I don't even know where Beth came from, she was just suddenly there. And now, I suppose, she's not.'

'Right. You have ten seconds to finish up this little pity-party and pull yourself together so we can get your sex life back on track.'

'Fine.'

'You know, the first time that Darcy met Clint and he hit on her and she told him that women were best off when left to their own mechanical devices. He was bright red in the face, it was pretty amazing. And now they put rabbits to shame. Nevertheless, the sentiment still stands.'

'It's just that I thought everything was going really well and we even had a Not-Date when we went to the church he went to when he was little.'

'Mariska, here's the thing; Steve and Peggy never went out, or had sex, or really did anything that remotely construed a relationship. He carried her picture around in his compass and she kissed him right before he crashed into the ocean. From what I heard he was the most romantically ignorant person ever, and when they did "acknowledge their feelings" she was the one who took the lead. And, since you probably don't know this, Beth was the one to make the first move and ask him out, so it's quite likely that he didn't really expect that he would be expected to make the first move. That's just our theory.'

'Our?'

'Bruce, Darcy, Clint, Pepper, Tony, and I.' Natasha had a vaguely condescending without being malicious look on her face.

'Great. So my sex life is common knowledge among the Avengers et al.' Maria rested her head in her hands with a groan.

'Technically it's your lack of sex life that we're talking about. There is, unfortunatly, no sordid details for us to gleefully gossip about.' Natasha said with the irritating smugness of someone who is getting regular and excellent sex. Maria seethed.

'Well gee, that just makes me feel so much better. '

Natasha smirked.

'It's just,' Maria waved her hands abstractly, 'You know.'

'Yes, I do.'