Natasha suddenly blinked, realizing just how close she'd gotten. But Bucky wasn't edging away, or getting up altogether to avoid their sudden closeness, so she didn't move back, either. She let him have the book, didn't immediately meet his gaze when he turned to look at her, but flicked her lashes up briefly, then lowered her eyes again, fingernails idly plucking at the soft velour blanket draped in her lap.
"Seven," came quiet, but not hesitant. "...at least, I think so. It's getting hard to remember that far back." Her first memories were of dark paneled hallways, rows of plainly dressed beds, and a tall thin woman with severe blonde hair and a grim mouth. A loaded gun in her small hand, and pointe shoes and tulle. "I was...one of several," she added in the same low voice. "God, it's hard to imagine that many children, orphaned at that age, all in one place..." Natasha started to reach back for her coffee cup, found her fingers trembling, and thought better of it, settling back and tucking her hands into the sleeves of her grey robe.
"It was always cold, in there. We only had a sheet and a single blanket." Green eyes stared unseeing at the coffee table in front of them, her words wooden, flat. "Lessons, drills, dance...we were their perfect porcelain dolls. Their created killers, pretty as a picture but deadly as a viper." Natasha suddenly shuddered, abruptly hiding her face between Bucky's shoulder and the couch. She didn't want him to see the anguish reflected in her eyes, the heavy weight of memory clawing at her.
A ragged breath, two, then she pulled back slightly, tucking scarlet behind her ear. "...sorry," she murmured huskily. "Thought I felt a ghost for a second, there..."
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"Seven," came quiet, but not hesitant. "...at least, I think so. It's getting hard to remember that far back." Her first memories were of dark paneled hallways, rows of plainly dressed beds, and a tall thin woman with severe blonde hair and a grim mouth. A loaded gun in her small hand, and pointe shoes and tulle. "I was...one of several," she added in the same low voice. "God, it's hard to imagine that many children, orphaned at that age, all in one place..." Natasha started to reach back for her coffee cup, found her fingers trembling, and thought better of it, settling back and tucking her hands into the sleeves of her grey robe.
"It was always cold, in there. We only had a sheet and a single blanket." Green eyes stared unseeing at the coffee table in front of them, her words wooden, flat. "Lessons, drills, dance...we were their perfect porcelain dolls. Their created killers, pretty as a picture but deadly as a viper." Natasha suddenly shuddered, abruptly hiding her face between Bucky's shoulder and the couch. She didn't want him to see the anguish reflected in her eyes, the heavy weight of memory clawing at her.
A ragged breath, two, then she pulled back slightly, tucking scarlet behind her ear. "...sorry," she murmured huskily. "Thought I felt a ghost for a second, there..."