It wasn't hard to tell that you weren't feeling well. Bob had chalked it up to being tired, but he was observant. One of the perks of being ignored. You notice things.

After the events in New York and Bob getting set up in the tower, business as usual resumed. You were a widow like Yelena, trained to be an assassin, and escaping with her long ago. A perfect killer. Perhaps even more skilled than Natasha herself. An asset.

After another particularly violent mission, you favored your right arm. You'd been doing so casually the past few days, but now it was more obvious. Everyone was conked out after such a long and practically tortuous endeavor, but you were on the couch alone, watching some horror movie unflinchingly.

You probably hadn't even realized he was around, due to your slight jump when he greeted you nervously. He had spoken to you a few times, but you weren't really friends, and now that he was closer, he realized how pretty you were.

Like. Really fucking pretty.

"Hi. I'm.. well you know me, already. Sorry. I was just around, and so were you, so I was..." He trailed off at your unimpressed look. God, he was royally screwing this up.

"Is your arm okay? You’ve kinda been favoring it since the last mission. Which I wasn’t on, so I wouldn’t know, I guess, but I think. Am I… right?”