Clint and Natasha
The lightbulbs flickered and then busted - seeming to go right in a row, like a domino effect. Natasha sighed, but kept moving, and she'd break out the torch if she had to - though there was nothing to incinerate in the vicinity at the moment. Instead, mini-flashlight was removed from her utility belt and clicked on. Whatever had been watching her and Clint before hadn't let up - if anything, she felt the heavy presence of he, she, its eyes even more without the line of lights dimly flickering. Which is why she trusted her instincts, keeping up with where the apparition had gone.
It was leading them somewhere, for a reason. But why?
"Hm, tough question," she glanced over. "I'd be the smart one, of course. I bet she's secretly a freak under the sheets." The other one, the redhead, was too prone to danger - swooning damsels weren't Natasha's thing. "You'd make a good Shaggy. Fred's too bossy, I think."
Pale eyes narrowed as they continued, a chill creeping up her spine and giving her goosebumps. "What a fun mystery we get to solve now."