"Chauffeur, will you fetch my purse from the trunk?" Natasha asked. Parker left to retrieve it.

"How do you want to handle this?" said Clint. "We won't have time to set up the ambush."

Agent Parker returned with Charlotte Welch's green silk purse. Natasha dug through it, pulling out a lipstick container and a small mirror.

"I have an idea," Natasha teased, applying the wine-red color to her lips. "He hasn't left the airport?" She tousled her hair and undid the first few buttons of her blouse.

"No. Cameras last spotted him at the airport bar."

"Perfect."

"Where should we meet?" Clint asked.

"I'll let you know." Natasha slung the purse over her shoulder and opened the car door.

"Wait," said Clint, taking her hand. Natasha studied the furrows of his face. He carefully slid the engagement ring off of her finger. "You might have better luck without this."

"Thanks," she said, and climbed out of the car.

Natasha headed back into the airport with a slow, sultry gait. Sebastian Griggs sat alone at the airport bar staring into a near-empty beer bottle. Natasha rolled her neck, stretching out. She took a deep breath, pushing herself to the back of her mind and becoming someone else.

Griggs had had a rough day, and was likely exhausted from his flight. Come on too strong, and he could shut down. On the other hand, he was gruff guy, who would probably only respond with a little push.

Natasha dug the cell phone out of her purse. Bringing the screen to life, she held it to her ear, talking into it with no one on the other end.

"No Johnny. I don't care what Byron wants," she said as she approached the bar. "Why does it matter who gets the business?"

She slumped down a few bar stools away from Griggs. "Just, just hold on a second." Natasha covered the phone's speaker as she placed her order to the bar tender. "Stop it. Sometimes I feel like winning your daddy's business is more important to you than I am." She let her brow furrow, allowing time for her new boyfriend to reply. "Unless you start putting me first, Johnny, we're over!"

Natasha ended the call with an unnecessarily hard tap of her finger and threw the phone back into the purse. "Do you ever feel like you're caught in the middle of a feud?" she said, turning casually to Griggs. The strong jawed man looked up as the bartender placed a martini glass in front of Natasha. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to throw all my problems on you." She paused, taking a sip of the drink. "It's just. . . my boyfriend and his brother are fighting over who gets their father's business. It's stupid really. They're too blind to see whose getting hurt." Natasha turned back to her glass. "Really, I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now."

She waited, counting down the seconds in her head. 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . Like clockwork, Griggs responded. Honestly, she was a little disappointed - a hardened thug and he wasn't even going to make this interesting. Oh well, at least she'd get it over with.

"No, that's alright," said Griggs in a low, gruff voice. "Actually, I think I get what you're taking about."

"Family trouble too?" Natasha asked.

"You could say that," Griggs explained. "My boss, he was like family to me. I've been working for his for years. He died recently."

"I'm so sorry. That's awful."

"Anyway, his sons are fighting over the business. I'm afraid it's going to get ugly. That's actually why I'm here."

"Really?" said Natasha, scooting into the chair beside him.

"Yeah, I got a new opportunity here in Budapest. It looks real promising."

"That's incredible. Congratulations."

"What about you, honey? Things looking up for you?" he asked.

"Actually, I don't know. My boyfriend and I, we've been going through a rough patch lately. It's . . . complicated. He met another girl and -" Natasha explained. She hadn't intended to use quite this much of her real life, but she shrugged it off. The easiest lies to tell were those grounded in truth. What scared her was at this point was that she was barely lying at all.

"He cheated on you?" said Griggs, sitting up a little in his chair. He was getting defensive of her. Excellent.

"Not technically, not yet. But I'm not sure how much longer we can last."

With a flick of his wrist, Griggs hailed the bartender. "Honey, you've had a rougher day than I have. Next round's on me."

And so the conversation went on, both participants spinning stories rooted in truth and covered in lies. They laughed, they chuckled, they shared their only partially false woes. As the drinks kept coming, Natasha employed her favorite parlor trick. This particular slight of hand allowed her to slowly drain her glass without drinking much alcohol. It had saved her life several times, where a drunken fog would have slowed her reaction time, which was usually the key to a fight.

"It's getting late," said Natasha, checking her watch. "I'd better get going to the hotel. Unless. . ." She paused, waiting for Griggs to look up at her.

"What?"

"No, it's silly." Natasha tucked a strand of rusty hair behind her ear.

"Really, what is it Dollface?" said Griggs. His words were slurred. Progress.

"Would you like to come with me?"

"That doesn't sound silly at all."

Griggs threw some money on the counter, fumbling up beside Natasha and taking her arm. Outside they hailed a taxi and hopped in.

"Where too Ma'am?" asked the driver.

Natasha fumbled through her purse. "Oh no. I can't seem to find the address. I'm pretty sure it's northwest of here though, by the river."

The cabbie started the car and headed out of the airport driveway and towards the downtown area. As Griggs stared out the window, Natasha took the opportunity to quickly make a hotel reservation on her phone, sending the receipt along to Clint.

"Here we go," she said, reading the cabbie the address.

They pulled up to a decent-looking building a few blocks from the Danube river, which cuts through the center of the city. They stumbled through the glass front doors and checked in at the front desk. Dragging their meager luggage along, they swiped into the room and flicked on the lights.

Natasha went to the window and threw the curtain open, scanning the black rooftops for someone she knew she'd never be able to see.

"I think you're going to want those closed," Griggs chuckled. So are you, Natasha thought, and dragged them closed again with the swish of heavy fabric. She was carefully to leave a small opening between the curtains, just in case.

"How about a bottle of wine," Natasha suggested, picking up the room service menu from the night stand. "Do you like Pinot Noir?" she asked, with the tiny drug capsules in hidden in her purse, and not the type of wine, on her mind

"How about we get right to the fun part." Griggs grabbed her arms and pulled her in for a kiss. At least things were getting interesting.

"Tell me about your new job," Natasha giggled as they toppled onto the bed.

"That's what you want to talk about now?" said the thug as he worked on the buttons of her blouse.

Natasha pulled a small handgun from the holster concealed on her thigh. The click of the safety releasing made Griggs freeze as she pressed it into his stomach. "Yes, yes it really is."

"I won't tell you anything," he said gruffly.

"Baby, you've already given my everything I need. Except your ID code."

"That's not true!" He struggled and she dug the gun further into his ribs.

"You're meeting András Szabo Thursday morning, around, how did your put it? 'Too early for beer and too late for breakfast.' So 1030 or 1100? You said it's the nicest clandestine meeting spot you've ever been to, which means it's by the river. Szabo's in the shipping business, so it's a pier in the shipping district." Natasha watched his eyes widen with each new detail.

"How. . ? How did you . . ?"

She gave his a playful pat on the cheek. "You told me. You let slip every detail. Now, your mutual contact has already vouched for you, but you are to present a nine digit PIN number to Szabo to prove your identity. Where is it?"

Griggs pursed his lips and spat at her. Natasha raised her hand and slapped him. With her hand in the air, Griggs hooked his leg over hers, pulling her off balance and flipping her over. The gun fell out of her hand and skidded off the bed. The muscular henchmen held her down, pinning her to the bed and leaning his forearm into her throat. Natasha tucked her chin to keep him from choking her out.

Rotating onto her hips, Natasha wriggled out of his grip. She swung her legs up to his neck, catching his shoulder between her thighs. In one swift motion she wrenched his arm and tumbled with him onto the burgundy carped. Still immobilizing him with the shoulder lock, she dug a knee into his spine before hauling him up and slamming him into the wall. Griggs crumpled to the floor with a soft thud. Natasha glanced at the crack in the blinds.

When Clint arrived barely two minutes later, Natasha opened the door to let him in.

"Looks like I missed quite a party," he said, surveying the rumpled sheets.

Natasha sighed. "For a muscle-for-hire, he really isn't very skilled. You might actually be doing Szabo a favor by replacing him."

Natasha dragged the wooden desk chair into the open space at the foot of the bed. Clint hoisted Sebastian Griggs' crumpled form over his shoulder and dropped him in the chair.

"Do you have everything I need to take his place?" Clint asked. Plastic zip-ties buzzed as they bound his hand together behind him, and his ankles to the chair.

"Everything but a PIN number."

"Think he was sloppy enough to right it down?" Clint grabbed Sebastian's bag where he'd dropped it and shook its contents out on the bed.

"Let's hope. I'd hate for this to get too messy."

"Digital or old school?" Clint said, holding up a cell phone.

Natasha snatched in from him and started working her way through its contents. Clint searched though the items on the bed. After several wrinkled changes of clothes and some protein bar wrappers, he hadn't found anything useful.

"It's a burner," said Natasha. "He was probably planning to get a new one here."

"Or he hoped Szabo would give him one."

"Anything on your end?" Natasha asked.

"Nope," said Clint, feeling around the inside of the duffle for anything he'd missed. "Wait." He flipped the bag inside out.

Sewn into a seem was a little scrap of cloth, nearly identical to the blue shade of the bag, but not a perfect match. Clint pulled a small knife from his boot and cut it free. It had the number 928709561 scrawled on it in scraggly black pen.

"What do you know," said Clint.

Griggs moaned as he started to come to. "Hey! Hey what are you doing with my stuff?" He wriggled against the bindings. "And who are you?" he added, glaring at Clint. He looked them both over, the slender red-head who'd taken him out and her muscular companion. "Who the hell are you people?"

"That's really none of you business," said Natasha. "Is this the PIN number?"

"No," said Griggs.

Clint watched for the tiniest twitch in his face. "He's lying."

"Thank you for your cooperation." Natasha walked closer to him, trailing her finger under his chin and circling around to stand behind him.

"Hey, wait! What are you -"

His head flopped forward.

Clint and Natasha walked out of the hotel in silence. The could both hear Fury's briefing in their ears: "Once a clean-up crew retrieves Griggs' body, you two are completely alone."