Who: Claire and Natasha Where: Claire's office in the Capitol hospital. When: A day or so after visiting District 8. What: Keeping up appearances, selling the lie, continuing to be gross, etc.
As much as Natasha generally liked Claire, visiting her office now felt like nothing so much as a necessary evil. Unavoidable, really: when you lived in the Capitol, and when you were a victor, and when a huge part of your persona revolved around the fact that you were pretty, you got a checkup when you had visible injuries. All part of the show, helpful little details that made the thing look convincing. She was hitting all the mile markings for how a person would behave for something like this. It was just that she felt - ridiculous, a little, perched on the chair in Claire's office and knowing full well that the bruise around her eye had been one she'd put there herself.
The bitemark at her breast had smoothed out, the thumbprints at her neck mostly faded, enough that if anyone was looking closely, they looked more like fun bruises than concerning ones by now. It was so superfluous, but she needed it to be recorded on her official health chart nonetheless.
Another twist of her stomach, then, thinking of it that way. Recorded in her official health chart and her thoughts drifted back to James all of their own accord, James in his room in Eight, James making her laugh out loud with his glee in those stupid novels. James who didn't trust himself to touch her and James who was willing to let people believe he'd want to be violent with a woman if it meant that Natasha would avoid some hideous punishment. Which was what would be in her official health chart. That he'd hurt her. That he ever could.
She didn't regret asking for his help, not exactly. It was just also - it was harder to let go of than she'd thought it would have been, that was all. And harder still after she'd gone to visit him.
Still, she did her best to smile at Claire, because for all that, she genuinely liked the other woman, it was always nice to see her. "I should probably preemptively ask you for some painkillers," she said. "I could pretend they're for me, but Clint's injured himself again, which I'm sure shocks you. He'll whine without."