Thread: Spider's Bite [SilverScar X translucentfeathers]

Natasha leaned casually against the stone wall next to a large series of windows, a hand on her hip, the other holding a fluted glasses of celebratory champagne as she observed the latest gala get underway for Stark Industries. It was a rather formal event, men and women of other corporations, military fractions, hero and even some neutral organizations as well as solo for hire personnel were all in attendance. It was odd, a mixture of millionaires, scientists and the hired guns mingling and brushing shoulders, casting off their day to day professions and coexisting. It made her skin crawl. Her dark red lips pressed lightly to the glass, allowing just enough of the golden liquid to just gather a hint of a taste of the champagne barely letting it wet her tongue before her face went from the cold neutral expression to one of disapproval and distaste. When she drank, she did so to truly drink, but she recognized the purpose behind appearances and knew that in a place such as this, challenging Steve Rogers and his metabolism to a game of shots while splitting a bottl of vodka between them would most likely be frowned upon. That and the Captain most likely would decline such an offer, she would have a much better chance at coaxing Thor into such revelry. With a hum she pushed off of the wall, the thin high heels on her feet clicking lightly on the marble floor as the woman walked across the floor, slipping through the crowd, though most moved aside as she approached. She knew she made an impressive sight, long, dark red hair swept in a series of loose waves and curls at the nape of her neck to reveal the long pale curve of her spine that the backless dress she had donned revealed. The black dress was simple and elegent, the fabric fitted to her form like a second skin, long sleeves that ran all the way down to her wrists, as it fitted the curves of breasts, the slim cut of her waist all the way down her hips to the floor, a long slit cutting up the side to her mid thigh. The neckline was relatively high, the back of the dress, however, dipped down to the curve of the small of her back and she enjoyed the feeling of the cool air against her skin in the otherwise somewhat modest looking gown. As she made her way to the bar she caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of familiar sharp features and a broad build. Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze narrowing as a dark smile slipped over her lips. Their exchange had been slightly over a week ago, and memories of their adrenaline pumping, heart racing exchange caused excitement to flash through her. It hadn't been difficult to find our some basic information about the man in SHIELD's database system, the tell tale single eye making it easy to match him with what information they had. A veteran who now served as a mercenary or gun for hire, the man was deemed a neutral, not an active threat. There was very little personal information, which suited Natasha as she gathered what she needed from what his file did hold-most men and women of such caliber and lifestyle were not born of a warm or fulfilling personal life. Natasha approached quietly, standing at his side as he looked over some of the displayed merchandise and inventions that Stark Industries had put out on display for the event. She crossed over, passing him by silently without a word to glance over the armor he was observing before arching an eyebrow at it. You know, Stark tends to model most of his armor after his own frame and stature, I believe he likes to test all of the toys himself...if you were looking for something you may need to request a custom fitted piece, she hummed as a slight hint of amusement lit her eyes, though her face remained relatively neutral.