Who: Faith Lehane and Natasha Romanoff. What: Getting a drink and meeting. Where: The bar that Faith works at. When: Last weekend Rating: PG-13 for language? Status: Closed, complete
Tasha didn’t go into bars all that often, but something about this place drew her in. Maybe it was her mind being other places, maybe it was just a need of a drink, but she walked in, hands in the pocket of her jeans. She kept her head down, hoping no one would recognized her from her show. She wanted to be anonymous today. She needed to be.
Faith was behind the bar as usual. It didn’t seem like she had much of a life outside of work. Her friends were in the past, and so it was only second nature to just be by herself. Tonight when Tasha came up to the bar, Faith wandered over after a minute. “What can I get you?” if she knew who the other woman was, she didn’t say anything. Then again, she’d been in jail for a while.
The actress shrugged a shoulder, "Your best vodka."
It was a stiff drink, but she wanted a stiff drink, and she also wanted to test and see if her limit was similar to the dreams. It might be - she'd gotten more toned and athletic over the past few months, but it might not be. Either way, she had a craving for the alcohol of her home country.
Going through the bottles, Faith grabbed the best vodka bottle that they had and poured Natasha a very big drink before sliding it over to her. She appreciated people who went right for the liquor and didn’t bother to mix it with other stuff. Who wanted to taste anything good when you could be totally drunk?
“Should I start you up a tab, or do you want to pay by the drink?”
You didn't mix Vodka. That was blasphemy. She picked up the glass, swirling it around after taking a sip, "Lets make it a tab."
Those were dangerous words, but she was feeling more like her dream-self and less like the actress who only pretended to be a spy.
"How long have you worked here?"
A woman after her own heart. Definitely blasphemy. The closest she ever got to mixing something together was rum and coke. Anything else was just weird. “Tab it is.” Faith went over and put it into the computer to keep track of. She knew all too well how dangerous that was.
“About .. four months almost? More like three and a half.” After getting out of prison, it was hard to find a job, thankfully this had come along at the right time.
She nodded her head, "I thought you seemed new to the area." Tasha took another drink, a longer one this time instead of just a sip. This was good vodka, she'd have to come back again, hopefully when she was in a better mood.
"Do you enjoy this?"
“More like I used to live here a while ago.. then I kinda.. left the area..” to say the least. “Now I’m back. But yeah, pretty new.” Faith went over and served some guys a couple of beers and took their money before she made her way back that way.
Her shoulder shrugged, not quite sure how to answer it. “Not exactly, but it’s the only place that’ll hire me.”
She nodded, "I do some travel on my job, but I'm never gone for long." Tasha nursed her drink while Faith attended to business, then tilted her head when she came back, "Why's that? I'm sure you’re a capable woman!"
“I’ve never really been anywhere before. Not for work or nothin.” It wasn’t a lie, though it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Her shoulder shrugged a little. Any time she told someone, they tended to stop talking to her in a hurry. Except what was she supposed to say? “People don’t really hire felons.”
Tasha raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about the felons thing. Who was she to judge, if Faith had served her time? It wasn't like her own hands were clean, "I thought there were supposed to be laws to ensure you can still get work? Or do anti-discriminatory laws not cover people who'd served their time?"
“They are, but that doesn’t really stop them from thinking up other reasons not to hire someone. They say we can’t hire you for this reason or that reason but you know it’s cause you’ve got a record.” It was easy enough to figure out who was an asshole like that and who wasn’t. “Not to mention that I’ve been away long enough not to know how to do most stuff nowadays.” Computers? Forget it.
"I'm sorry." Tasha reached over and patted a hand on Faith's arm, "That doesn't seem fair at all. How long were you locked up?"
She wondered what sort of skills Faith had. She knew some people in the unions who could maybe find her work on set, even if it was in the prop department.
Tasha had a altruistic streak.
Faith didn’t remember the last time someone patted her arm. “Guess it’s the price you pay for fucking up royally.” Which she had, there wasn’t any denying that. “Eight years, seven months and fourteen days. But who’s counting, right? Manslaughter, before you ask.” See? It wasn’t anything nice like possession of drugs. Someone had died and she was responsible. Partly anyway.
"What happened, if you don't mind my asking?" That was definitely more serious than she'd thought. Drunk driving, perhaps? Something else? It might make things more difficult, but Natasha didn't seem fazed just yet.
“Hit and run,” she confessed. “I was the only one that came forward. We all got jail time, but I testified against the others.” Now she was back out on the streets, trying to make up for what she did.
"You did the right thing. Both in coming forward and in testifying." She knew people would call Faith a snitch, a traitor, and any number of worse names, but it took a lot of courage to come forward like that.
"I believe in a little justice."
“Yeah I know. I wasn’t even the one driving.. but y’know, when you get caught, you get caught.” And she had been called all of those names. It didn’t really bother her. It just bugged her that she would always be looked at as a killer instead. No matter what she did from here on out, it wouldn’t matter.
"Probably a reason why you were given such a light sentence," Natasha replied, nodding her head and knocking back the rest of her drink. It burned going down and she groaned a bit, "Sounds like they owe you a bit of payback."
“Yeah, I’m sure it is. And yeah, they really do.” Faith was worried, she’d be stupid not to be worried. It wasn’t like they were going to let it slide. Though what she was going to do about it, she really had no idea. “Guess I got it coming, according to them. Nothin to do but wait for it.” Or run, but she wouldn’t do that.
"You owe them, too. You wouldn't have been locked away if it wasn't for them. I'm sure they tried to pressure you into remaining silent." Natasha wondered if Faith was in any danger. She didn't know these people, but she'd seen (and acted in) enough movies and television shows. TV didn't always translate to real life, but sometimes It could, tragically.
That was a fair point. They probably weren’t afraid of her as she was of them. Strength in numbers. It wasn’t like she was really a super powered lady like in her dreams. “Yeah, they definitely tried. Just didn’t work.” She was too stubborn, and they weren’t as good as they thought they were. Honestly she probably was, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it.
"If you ever want to talk," Tasha said, pulling out her wallet. "Call me?" She scribbled her number and name on a card and slid it across the bar, along with payment for the tab. Her own mood had shifted and she wasn't so interested in drinking any longer. "Or even just hang out. I probably need to get out more."
At least get out to places that weren't swanky, anyway. “Thanks..” Faith took the card and looked it over before sticking it in her pants pocket. She wasn’t much for talking to people though. She wondered if this woman was some kind of shrink or something. “Yeah I need to get out more too.” Like you wouldn’t believe. Then she took the money and rang her up. “I’m Faith, by the way. I’ll see you around.”
"Natasha," She replied, smiling. "I'm sure you'll see me around." She let Faith keep the change, and left a decent tip, before heading out the door. On the television where some patrons were watching a game, and ad for the Black Widow tv show came on, starring one Ms. Natasha Romanoff.
Natasha. Huh. “Yeah sure..” She wasn’t quite sure she believed that, but Faith wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Mostly. She glanced up at the tv, blinked and then looked back at the door. Really? Was that? Weird. Faith was going to have to do some digging.