Maybe I’m just going easy on you.
[Without an invitation, Natasha crosses the threshold, an uninterrupted series of steps carrying her right up to the edge of Hill’s desk. The coffee hits the desktop first – a peace offering – and the sandwich follows, slid directly in front of the other woman so she’s got no choice but to acknowledge it, lest it start leaving an unwelcome smear of grease behind.
The hallmark of a good bacon, egg, and cheese, by the way.]
Sure doesn’t look like anybody else is.
[ This draws a breath that could be mistaken for a laugh- if you want to look that close. Brows lifted, the twinge of a smile at the edges of her mouth, Maria leans back in her chair at Natasha’s approach. The roasty, bittersweet smell wafting from the slats in the twin plastic lids from the americanos is amazing enough- coupled with the ( entirely unnecessary but not unwanted ) gut bomb of a breakfast sandwich and, well, fine, Romanov. Accepted, whatever this is. Apology, peace offering, bargaining chip? Maria hooks a finger into the opening of the bag, casts an appraising glance into the paper shell. ]
By all means, don’t pull your punches on my account.
[ A pause; she nods toward the coffee. ]
I know I definitely didn’t do anything to deserve this-