Natasha keeps searching Hawkeye's face for any sign of recognition. But, she's not getting any. Slowly, it's dawning on her that she's not catching so much of a glimmer of intelligent thought either. So she broadens her search, looks for a single trace of him in those drug-clouded eyes of his. When she doesn't find one, her heart stops cold in her chest. He's gone. They've stripped away everything that makes him him with their drugs and their 'experiments' (though 'torture' is a far better word for it). She's seen it happen before. But she never thought it could happen to Hawkeye. He used to be brimming over the edge with personality, and now that's just wiped clean.

"Fuck, you're too out of it," she says, dropping her hand from his chin in disgust. She feels like punching the wall in frustration. The only reason she doesn't is that she doesn't want to upset him. She's seen all too many times how anger or impatience from the scientists can make a subject cower in fear. Somehow, though she's seen the other subjects and interacted with them, she never expected Hawkeye to be like them. She thought he was stronger than that. And she's pissed at him because he isn't.

She steps away, drags her hands through her hair and tries to regroup. In all the scenarios she ran, she simply didn't count on this. First thing first though, she calms herself, and gives him a pleasant -- if somewhat forced -- smile. She'll have to treat him like on of the other subjects. At least until she can find a way to clear the drugs from his system.

"What's your name?" she asks softly. She's stepping close again, touching two fingers against his facial artery, just by the jut of his jaw, and checking her wristwatch, ostensibly to measure his pulse. In reality, she's barely paying attention to his heartbeat. It's just that this is the first step in the routine, and he needs settling down.