Fight Or Flight, Indeed?

This first segment was written by user Marvelous as part of an RP with me on Blue Moon Roleplaying forums. The second is by yours truly.

It took Chris snapping at her and actually boldly reaching out to grab her by the wrist to actually slow Natasha down, whirling around on him with a look on her face unlike anything most ever got to see. It was a porcelain doll's visage beginning to crack and splinter, her eyes shimmering with a furious humiliation that normally never would have been able to find its way to the surface. The hard set, angry twist on her pouting cupid's bow lips was trembling like she was about to find herself crying, something that most would have thought that the Black Widow didn't even know how to do.

"What choice do I have right now, Clyde?" she hissed, her smokey voice low and as thorny as any rose. The sound of catcalls, whistles, and appreciations wasn't going to end just because she had stopped and spun around, gravity and momentum's never-ceasing affectations on her buoyant body rocking her breasts to one side and then gently bouncing into something akin to a natural resting place as her breathing hitched. She was scared. She was defiant of that fear. A stiff upper lip and acting as though nothing could ever bother her was Natasha's raison d'etre in so many ways. "I'm not about to go infiltrating the air ducts of our own building," she insisted, yanking her delicate wrist out of his grip and darting her eyes to the side as she saw a few of the hangar-jocks trying to decide if they should get in for a closer look to find out what was going on. "Empress' New Clothes is pretty much my only option here," she said.

And would the labs be able to do anything for her? Maybe, maybe not, but at the very least they might have had some way for her to cover up her "fine ass" until a more permanent solution could be offered.

"Get back to work," Natasha suddenly turned her head entirely toward the gawkers and the eyeballers, the no-nonsense fury fueled by her abject humiliation that was spreading the blush from her cheeks right down to the delicate lines of her clavicle making the voice of one of the most dangerous women on the planet really resonate across the hangar .. but also making the shutter-click noise of someone's phone camera going off all the louder afterward. Oh, Chris was going to have to do something, because Romanoff's terrified embarrassment wasn't going to stop her from showing a bunch of mechanics how even buck naked she could still put a lot of them up in Med for a day.

Chris had no doubt in his mind that this situation could get very messy. And if the Widow lost her cool on their own men? That could be complicated in ways even permanent nudity couldn't top. He scanned Natasha as her body started to react. She raised her head to look dead at the men heckling her, but then another group moved up behind her. "Perfect from any angle, that's fine! We like the show from behind too!" "WOOO! Naked Nat! What a stunner!" "She's perfect!" "Can she please do this every day? What do I have to do? Whose ass do I have to kiss?" "I would hope it's hers." He watched as she started to crouch, he watched her bare toes with the red polish (the only vestige of nonhuman material on her person) flex against the floor in nervous and possibly frustrated fidgeting as her hands did the same, becoming claw like before rolling into hard fists. Deadly fists. He saw the way her stomach hitched and drew in rapid breath. Fight or flight. She definitely was going to fight. Her eyes were darting around the room. She was still a sight of beauty, no doubt. Everything about her was mystifying ,intoxicating.

Problem was, she was dangerous as well. "Come on, Natasha! Don't let them get to you. Keep moving, ok? You only need one friend in this room, that can be me, or it can be you. You don't have to trust me, just get out of here and let them find something better to do." Chris sighed. He didn't know if she'd be the sentimental type. Possibly all of that was beaten out of her wherever they chiseled a perfect agent out of the poor girl she used to be. But it was a gamble he hoped would pay off. Otherwise?