"God, would you just - stop," Natasha said, brought her hand up to her face so that she could pinch the bridge of her nose and realized too late exactly what a terrible idea that was at this particular moment. It sent a sharp shock of pain blossoming behind her eyes, and she pursed her lips for a moment, waited for it to pass. "Just stop. It is what it is." A summary of life in the Capitol, a song she could probably sing by herself in a two-part harmony by now. Scott couldn't get his own daughter out of a school he didn't want her in, of all things - what wiggle room did Steve think there was, in here?
"Stop," she repeated. "I got you out of it. Honestly, by this point, you've probably kept yourself out of it, he wouldn't trust sending you off with someone he needs in his camp anyway." She was sure about that, at least. Even in those ridiculous latex pants and laced with enough aphrodisiacs to power a five-person orgy, Steve was too much of a loose cannon by now for Stane to put to any real use, and he'd already had his final warning. It wasn't a power move he was likely to pull on Steve.
"Anyway, I didn't do it for you," she added, because that was mostly the truth. Clint. It had been more than a little bit for Clint. Because it had nearly killed Clint to watch it happen to her, and if he'd had to watch it happen to Steve, she didn't think that was something he would have been able to get back up from.