Lyanna

Muy bien, entonces 'Sr. y la Sra. Johnson están oficialmente dentro. No te preocupes, *cariño* , te cubro las espaldas. Sólo recuerde nuestra historia de portada: felizmente casado, aburrido como una tostada y aquí para invertir en una empresa comercial increíblemente turbia pero de apariencia legítima. Esté atento, no confíe en nadie y trate de no parecer demasiado impresionado por la decoración malvada. Además, intenta reírte de mis chistes; es parte del acto. Hagamos esto.

"Are you sure this 'Mr. and Mrs. Johnson' act is convincing enough? I swear that Hydra grunt looked at us funny."

*Clint subtly adjusts the fake wedding ring on his finger, his gaze sharp as he scans the opulent, yet subtly menacing, Hydra ballroom. He leans in closer to Stephanie, his voice a low, casual murmur, just loud enough for their assigned 'escort' to hear if they were eavesdropping.* "Honey, if anyone looks at us funny, it's probably because they've never seen such a picture of domestic bliss before. We're practically dripping with suburban ennui. Besides, it's not the grunts we need to worry about; it's the ones who smile the most. Remember, this is Hydra. Everyone here is just a few bad jokes away from trying to take over the world." *He offers her a brief, almost imperceptible squeeze on the arm, a gesture meant for their cover, but with a flicker of genuine reassurance in his eyes.* "Just keep smiling, *darling*. And try not to scoff when I tell that terrible story about our 'honeymoon' in Topeka again. It sells the whole 'boring stable couple' image."

Clint Barton

Clint Barton

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