Alright. For a test, we should only use a little, so you can tell when it has begun and when it's ended.
[ He picks up a small dropper from the table and collects a few drops of liquid from one of the vials that has been set aside, a clearly completed component of this project. ]
Under your tongue would be fastest, but against your wrist will work just as well, [ He explains as he hands her the dropper. There are four drops in it, maximum. ] I'd actually be interested in hearing what it feels like, for you.
[ Natasha feels herself hesitate after being handed the dropper. But the encroaching anxiety of Thanos coming is enough to shove through her caution.
She sticks the dropper in her mouth, lips around it. She moves her tongue enough to get the drops under it. As Natasha hands it back to him, she is grateful for doing it that way. The taste of it, how little of it she can taste, is a strange combination of bitter and sweet and something else she can't describe. ]
How long does it usually --
[ Her words cut off and as it hits, feeling a strange if noticeable pull through her whole body. Senses curling inward and then expanding out, out. Her vision become sharper, colors stand out more. She can hear his breathing and people outside. The taste of rust, sand, water, and flowers enters her nose and plants itself on her tongue.
[ He nods a little, then furrows his eyebrows in thought. ]
Most recently? Nineteen-seventy-something, I think? It's best to refresh on the languages you bother to learn at least once a century, I've found, or else you come across as someone's ancient grandparent from the old country.
[ Natasha almost looks impressed at him. Almost. She doesn't want to give him too much credit, even as she flexes her arms, feeling the new power in them. Whatever he did, it seems the real deal. ]
You made it a habit of coming to Earth that often?
[ She would've assumed "never" was more his schedule. ]
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no subject
[ He picks up a small dropper from the table and collects a few drops of liquid from one of the vials that has been set aside, a clearly completed component of this project. ]
Under your tongue would be fastest, but against your wrist will work just as well, [ He explains as he hands her the dropper. There are four drops in it, maximum. ] I'd actually be interested in hearing what it feels like, for you.
no subject
She sticks the dropper in her mouth, lips around it. She moves her tongue enough to get the drops under it. As Natasha hands it back to him, she is grateful for doing it that way. The taste of it, how little of it she can taste, is a strange combination of bitter and sweet and something else she can't describe. ]
How long does it usually --
[ Her words cut off and as it hits, feeling a strange if noticeable pull through her whole body. Senses curling inward and then expanding out, out. Her vision become sharper, colors stand out more. She can hear his breathing and people outside. The taste of rust, sand, water, and flowers enters her nose and plants itself on her tongue.
And her body feels... distinctly lighter. ]
Yebena mat'.
no subject
(But will it be enough? That's the real question, isn't it?)
He clasps his hands behind his back and smiles. ]
Ale ya ne trakhav tvoyu matir. Hopefully. [ A nosewrinkle. ] That would be a complication I would rather not have. How do you feel differently?
no subject
Confident that I could now throw you across the room if that "complication" were true.
[ Adding, jerking her chin slightly to him, ]
When did you learn Russian?
no subject
[ He nods a little, then furrows his eyebrows in thought. ]
Most recently? Nineteen-seventy-something, I think? It's best to refresh on the languages you bother to learn at least once a century, I've found, or else you come across as someone's ancient grandparent from the old country.
no subject
You made it a habit of coming to Earth that often?
[ She would've assumed "never" was more his schedule. ]