It doesn't change anything. Because regardless of how unexpected this is for him, it still happened. He's lost in the maze of his own mind, the path out obscured by the mist of drugs and he can't make his way out on his own. It's not that she's disappointed in the weakness though. Not really. (Hell, she's been as lost as he is now, though generally she has had her handler's voice tugging at her like a lifeline, connecting her to reality.) It's rather the fact that seeing him like this scares the hell out of her, and she'd rather be angry than scared any day of the week.
The easy answer that he really shouldn't be giving her, earns him a sharp look before Natasha remembers that she's supposed to be soft and reassuring right now. Despite the fact that he -- even drugged to the gills -- shouldn't be giving up something as vital as his identity to anyone. If that truly is his name though, (because she doesn't know, does she?) it's a good sign that he's in there somewhere.
"Hello, Clint," she says and rubs her thumb soothingly over the corner of his jaw, fingers still pressed against his pulse, which is just too damn quick. Technically, this is the point where she ought to test his ability to follow her finger with his eyes before using the small flashlight tucked in the breastpocket of her white lab coat to test his pupil reactions, and she really shouldn't be straying from the routine--
"I'm Natalie." It's her cover name, so it's safe enough to give, even though the employees here would never introduce themselves to a subject. It'd be a bit like exchanging names with a dog after all.
"Your heart is beating a bit too hard, Clint. So, I'd like you to slow it down for me. Think you can do that? If I walk you through it? All you have to do is do exactly what I say. You can do that, right?" Her voice is soft and reassuring, like she's learned to keep it with the subjects, but there's a warmth to it that's only for him.
no subject
The easy answer that he really shouldn't be giving her, earns him a sharp look before Natasha remembers that she's supposed to be soft and reassuring right now. Despite the fact that he -- even drugged to the gills -- shouldn't be giving up something as vital as his identity to anyone. If that truly is his name though, (because she doesn't know, does she?) it's a good sign that he's in there somewhere.
"Hello, Clint," she says and rubs her thumb soothingly over the corner of his jaw, fingers still pressed against his pulse, which is just too damn quick. Technically, this is the point where she ought to test his ability to follow her finger with his eyes before using the small flashlight tucked in the breastpocket of her white lab coat to test his pupil reactions, and she really shouldn't be straying from the routine--
"I'm Natalie." It's her cover name, so it's safe enough to give, even though the employees here would never introduce themselves to a subject. It'd be a bit like exchanging names with a dog after all.
"Your heart is beating a bit too hard, Clint. So, I'd like you to slow it down for me. Think you can do that? If I walk you through it? All you have to do is do exactly what I say. You can do that, right?" Her voice is soft and reassuring, like she's learned to keep it with the subjects, but there's a warmth to it that's only for him.