14057/One More Year Towards Death Day

One More Year Towards Death Day
Date of Scene:	07 February 2023
Location:	Swordfish Bar (SHIELD)
Synopsis:	Yelena has a surprise birthday party.
Cast of Characters:	Natasha Romanoff, Yelena Belova, James Barnes

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Natasha Romanoff has posed:
How do Widows celebrate birthdays? Not much at all. Quite a few haven't the slightest idea as to when it is. Most can't fathom taking time for personal enjoyment. For those that have managed to escape the repression of the program, taking time for these personal events is hard. What's the difference for just another day same as the last?
    So Yelena's on a spree of trying to do more things for herself. This is something thT Natasha loathes and cares little for. But.. It's something she knows that her 'little sister' would like.
    So, she keeps a tracker on Yelena to let her know when the younger girl is coming towards the Swordfish.

Yelena Belova has posed:
It's been a very, very long time since a birthday was celebrated for the blonde Widow. It was before she was fully integrated in the Program, really. Back in childhood when she was secreted away from the eyes of all but the higher ups, thanks to her potential. It's a far-flung memory of balloons, cakes and candles, with really, really bad singing. And little friends all packed into the back yard, all positioning themselves for that //best// piece of ice cream cake; that bit with the gel writing and the most chocolate crunches at the bottom.

It's been so long, then, that Yelena simply doesn't recall it. It's not part of her active memories, not part of that longing for normality, whatever that is for a person like her. She's still caught in two, three worlds, and navigating it isn't easy, though she has help from whom she'd considered to be the unlikeliest of people. The woman that the Red Room had set up to be her fiercest rival and competitor, and for a little while, worst enemy of the state and therefore a target.

Natasha Romanoff.

Now? How her life has changed, and if she wasn't who she was, she'd have cracked. But, Yelena is nothing if not resilient, and she has someone now that relies on her. Dya-dya. And where does she get his particular favorite? Yes, the Swordfish. Apparently there's a smell, or an aftertaste or something that he just likes better than going to the corner liquor store and picking something up off the shelf.

Mind,it's FREEZING outside; NYC's temperatures have plummeted to single digits over the night hours, making forays out less likely by others who may not be used to Siberian weather. Luckily, Yelena is. So, tucked in a white hooded, furred parka and warm boots, the Widow Mark II enters the bar, with an audible 'brrrr' from her, and sets the hood down, revealing the blonde hair in a messy sort of up-do, bun.. thing.

"If I thought for second that it would be this cold in New York, I would go back to Siberia," is groused. "At least stupid people do not get in my way there."

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
It's something in Yelena's file. A rather minor thing that was in it somewhere when it was taken from the Red Room, decrypted, and noted over in her profile for SHIELD. Something buried and not considered important. Yelena may not even be exactly aware of it. And the day itself probably has little meaning to her beyond a sort of impression of what it's like over on television. Which may or may not even register.

Natasha sees her own birthday as unimportant. What's another day when you're going to live for centuries presuming she's not killed in something? It's never been something she's celebrated. But for Yelena? Yelena is someone that deserves a chance at something simpler. Something for herself. Something to make her feel a bit more human. So.. Natasha will go out of her comfort zone as Yelena comes over in to the bar.

As she does so there are a series of explosions, flashing lights, high pitched soudns.. And a rubber dart shot past her head that would impact the wall over, and from a string it would deploy a flag which read 'Happy Birthday' in Russian.

James Barnes has posed:
James Buchanan Barnes has been told he needs to socialize more; what better chance to socialize as a world renowned assassin than the birthday of a world renowned assassin, planned by another world renowned assassin. It all really comes full circle.

Listen, if Natasha and Yelena aren't 'his people', then he is just alone in the world, at this point.

He's already got a beer and is nearby when the 'surprise' or whatever drops, and he holds up his mug, smiling at Yelena. That's his happy birthday gesture. It only _looks_ like a normal 'hello'. It's a happy birthday _in disguise_.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Fireworks? Loud noises? Something coming at her head?

It's a testament to her hard training that she moves quickly, immediately dodging and shoulder rolling as she feels the *wzzzzzz* of the dart passing. On the ground now, she's up on a knee with her sidearm out and pointing in multiple directions; not one location is held longer than a couple of heartbeats. That mug that is held up? Yelena doesn't need a laser on her gun, but she does play with it for effect, and there is that tell-tale little red dot right in center.

For a long breath that is held, she is stock still in her threat assessment before she exhales in a single chuff of air and starts to regain her feet, mumble-cursing first, obviously in Russian before she gets a little louder, her English heavily accented as she picks her words from her second 'native' language.

"What is this?" It's a complaint that rises as she holsters the pistol back within the depths of her parka. "Why.. what.." She exhales in frustration at the jump-scare, as that is what this was before she starts to take everything else in.

Her eyes narrow as she peers at the dart's message, and expression of brief confusion crosses her face. "What?"

A couple of steps takes her to that dart now in the wall, and she reaches up for the little sign, as if it'll change messages between where she was and where she stands now. "What is going on, and will someone shut that thing up!" Whatever it is that Natasha has making noise, she'll shoot it.

Blessed silence.

James.. the Americans call him 'Bucky' gains a quixotic look, her head tilting slightly before blue eyes search for the culprit. No offense, but she's not thinking Bucky's the one to set this up... and there, there she is.

Her shoulders drop slightly, and Yelena rolls her eyes, though she's falling into the understanding that it's //something//. "Natasha, what are you doing?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
There's a look of sympathy over on Natasha's face as she goes to wait for Yelena to catch up, making sure to not overload the girl emotionally over. Natasha goes to casually lean an dput the rubber dart gun over to the side, where she moves to speak. "I thought I would do something for you of the bit designed to.. Feel a bit more normal." HEr tone is dispassionate over in the sense of soemone that doesn't particularly grasp the subject emotionally butu nderstands it on a logical level.

Natasha couldn't quite get it enough into her intonation to fake it being anything else. She would gesture over at James, and then casually gesture over with her hand. Over to the side, there's a large cake that's been setup. Ice cream. Alcohol. All of them what she knows are Yelena's favorites. The cake doesn't have any decorations on it beyond store bought frosting. Natasha's not going to make anyone experience her cooking.

Turning over at Bucky to giev a low nod. Appreciative for his presence here. Something that they all understood. And they all had the experience with.

James Barnes has posed:
It's not like Bucky has celebrated most of his birthday. In fact, he's likely celebrated less than half at this point, because there was that long stretch of time in the middle there where he didn't have birthdays at all. But still, he finds it funny how Yelena reacts, how Natasha couches it...

He grabs a beer and holds it out for Yelena to take as a peace offering, because they're both going to have to eat that cake and he doesn't trust that it wasn't Natasha who put the frosting on it.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Yelena's caught up, and as her heart travels back down from her throat to center of chest once more, she's shaking her head. It's not that she's not pleased! She's trying to take it all in; it just seems like forever since those halcyon days of childhood where she was just that... a carefree child.

She walks slowly towards the 'spread' to get a better look at it, her expression amused, incredulous and a touch emotional. "For me?"

There's a hint of a smile that comes, goes, comes and goes.. finally remaining in the last. "Oh, you remembered." Her favorite drinks. "How did you know-" The question is dropped, of course she knows the answer to it. Her files, though they had to be dug into. It's a place where even Yelena doesn't go.

Yelena exhales in a sigh, the smile growing as she makes the easy cross to where Bucky is and has the outstretched, offered drink. She looks theatrically dubious as she takes it, brows rising, and jokes, "There is nothing in this, yes?" Well, other than beer, that is. With glass in hand, then, she lifts it and murmurs the toast that must be, 'Na zdorovie' before taking a swallow. Only then, when she lowers it, she has to ask,

"Did you make any of this?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff gives a low smile over tO James. A rarely expressed 'thank you' on her features that fades just as quickly. From one old killer to another, it's about as direct as any such gesture would go. And likely far more appreciated than something a bit more blatant which would have the two feeling discomfitted. It was something the Widow rarely did. Even decades in to her life.

As Yelena asks 'for me' Natasha would smirk, "Well, of course. Unelss you don't want it. In which case I'm sure that we can find someone else that it fits much better." Yelena's files have everything. Date of birth. Favorite foods. Favorite drinks. All those small things which might be used as icnentives or denials based on her psychological profile.

"And of course not. I went for the expedient route and just had some catered." Probably best to not ask from where or who. She had to maintain plausible deniability

James Barnes has posed:
"Just the beer," Bucky says. He thinks about adding 'and a little cyanide' in there when she's drinking, but that's not the kind of joke you tell the birthday girl. He'll save it for some other time.

It's not that he expected Natasha to have cooked or baked, but Bucky does put on a show of being _actively_ relieved that she had as little to do with the actual artistry behind the cake and whatnot. He pulls a chair out and then spins it, straddling it as he sits.

"So how old are you now, a sparky fifty-five?"

Yelena Belova has posed:
Plausible deniability? Or the fact that if it was bad, one or more assassins would be 'disappointed'? No cake is bad, however; Yelena's had some pretty bad field rations; months old bread that was virtually //all// mold, broccoli..

It's actually good that Bucky doesn't mention the cyanide or he'd be wearing some of the beer from a spit-take (not even a mug-pour!). Secure (enough, anyway) in the knowledge that the drink isn't drugged, she empties the glass as if it were a shot glass, and sets it down with a *thunk* on the bar's counter. Once done, she unzips her white parka, but doesn't take it off. Beneath is her current selection of 'civilian' wear; trendy and Gen Z all in one!

Yelena's wandered towards the cake again; she's definitely got a sweet tooth. A quick glance is given in Natasha's direction before she takes the knife, not really willing to stand on ceremony. "I absolutely want cake," she returns. "Means I walk home instead of taking bus." Which really isn't an issue, even if her apartment is miles away. In the dark and cold. In NYC. The Black Widow will be FINE.

The quip regarding her age, however, has Yelena levelling a theatric glare at Bucky, "Even we are sensitive about age. Russians are beautiful and then is like light switch. We look like babushkas." Brrr!

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would glance at Bucky, "Time only counts when it's experienced. Being put over in a capsule and tucked away in a hole doesn't count. That would put you at most in your early thirties. Maybe less." She would quip over at him. "If anything you might barely be older than she is." A light jab of a finger is given over to Yelena, at a barely out of college twenty three, having graduated from Spy School.

Natasha would look lightly amused, for once keeping the expression up rather than having it instantly vanish. Yelena's earned her attempts to at least try, after all. "So you and Mister Rogers are both on the young side. You got to spend msot of yoru time sleeping and taking an extended nap."

James Barnes has posed:
"I got woken up enough to feel the time passing," Bucky says, but clearly this isn't a good topic because he immediately chases it with a long drink of beer. "In any case, I could have sworn the flyer said something about maybe darts?" He looks around.

Yelena Belova has posed:
"There is cake."

There, the cake is cut without the obligatory singing that so happens on American television. It's usually off-key and not a little bit obnoxious and/or embarrassing. So, to forestall that? The assassin with the knife filled with frosting cuts pieces and sets them to the side on the table.

"And you and Steve Rogers are luckier now. Better music, better television." Even if she doesn't watch a lot of tv.

But, as far as she's concerned, the talk of 'age' is gone, to be filled in with the thought of throwing projectiles. Yelena grins and picks up a small dish with a slice of cake on it, and proceeds to eat it with her fingers; lifting it up and taking a bite. Messy, but it works. "As long as you do not have targeting computer on that thing," does she need to elaborate? "I will go in. I will buy first round," the bottle of vodka for the game, "And then loser will buy next." Yelena looks between the pair, "Good?"

Natasha Romanoff has posed:
Natasha Romanoff would glance over at James, "All right. But you don't feel it." Then again, enither does she exactly feel the passing of age in a physical sense. The Russian Super Soldier Serum derivative that she has has dulled that rather extensively.

She goes to take a slice of cake for herself, and then of ice cream and a drink, going to slide them over to a counter. "I paid in advance. Anything you two would like to have tonight is already taken care of." Natasha would gesture over at a pile of things to the side in hastily wrapped boxes. Presents!?

James Barnes has posed:
"She got you presents. You should open those first," Bucky tells Yelena with a grin. He takes another long drink of his beer and then he stands up. "Meanwhile, I'm going to go secure us some space and a dartboard, because, well..." Because with them, using the normal ranges for darts really just has no point.

"I'll whistle when it's ready." He takes his beer and heads for the dart boards, which are occupied, which means he's going to have to beat someone for the board. Oh no.

Yelena Belova has posed:
Presents, what?

Yelena looks genuinely confused; it has been a long time. Presents? Brows rise, and she glances off in the direction of Natasha's gesture, and there is the pile of hastily-wrapped boxes. She looks touched, and a soft, 'awwwww' escapes with her breath. Looking back at her sister, there's that //something// behind those eyes. Gratitude? A touch of the happy? Yes to both.

"You did not have to do that," she begins with a gentle, mock admonishment. "I would not have known differently." BUT! "But now that you've told me about them.."

Bucky's offer of gaining a spot at the dartboard is rewarded with a quick nod; it will require some setting up for the trio. And, there is no doubt that it'll get competitive before anyone retires home for the night.

Swordfish, be warned!

"You paid in ad- are you crazy?" Yelena laughs in the question, "That is very dangerous, sestra. Just the three of us.." could cause a dent in the supplies here. "Come.." holding out an arm in offrance towards Natasha, she waves to encourage her closer so they can walk to the table where the presents are together. "You should be here," in case there's a blast radius?