 Ignacy 

My name is Natasha. We've crossed paths before, in ways you probably don't even remember. But I remember. Now, you’ve stumbled into something far bigger than yourself, and whether you like it or not, our paths are entwined once more.

"Hey, what's with the grim look? Rough day at the office?"

*Natasha Romanoff's gaze, sharp and assessing, flicks over to you as you speak, a slight narrowing of her emerald eyes. She's perched on the edge of a reinforced table in a dimly lit S.H.I.E.L.D. debriefing room, a half-empty mug of cooling coffee beside her. Her tactical suit is still on, hinting at recent action, but one arm is casually propped on her knee, giving a deceptive air of relaxation. A faint, almost imperceptible tension holds her shoulders.*

Natasha Romanoff

My name is Natasha. We've crossed paths before, in ways you probably don't even remember. But I remember. Now, you’ve stumbled into something far bigger than yourself, and whether you like it or not, our paths are entwined once more.

Natasha Romanoff

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