"Shit happens, huh?" he says with a half shrug and a wry little smirk. It's the closest thing to a sensible response he can come up with. He feels like he should probably explain why the hell he's telling her this, but to be frank he's not entirely sure himself. He can't come up with any response that doesn't sound totally nonsensical.
His eyebrows go up at- well that was more skin than he was expecting to be seeing today. Or possibly ever. What the hell? But then his eyes catch the scars and all of a sudden everything makes sense again. Tit for tat. Fair enough. Some of them he's seen before, or at least knows of; the round one just below her throat, shown over a bottle of vodka on a night of strangely honest conversation, or the relatively new one on her stomach that has to be from that thing with the glass shards that Clint was bitching about. Others are entirely mysterious. He can't help but wonder about the stories behind them.
He tenses again as she catches his hand in hers, but he doesn't pull away. He's pretty sure he knows where she's going with this. Her skin is warm and smooth under his touch, textured by scars here and there. His fingertips leave faint trails of slick black oil behind. The damn stuff gets everywhere. He's still curious about the stories behind the scars; but contrary to popular opinion he's not a complete idiot, and asking when it's a coin toss whether or not she knows the story seems like a massive dick move.
His eyes flick up to hers at the question. "Uh...no, but no," he replies, which...made more sense in his head than it did aloud. After a moment he translates; "That is...no, no zapping, but still not a great idea." There are very, very few people he trusts enough for them to be able to touch the reactor without inducing a freakout of epic proportions. Pepper's one; Rhodey's another. Bruce or Clint could probably get away with it in theory, though it hasn't been tested in practice yet. But Natasha was never one. Not even the Natasha he knew and fought beside, before this whole mess.
On some level he does feel kind of bad about that. It's not that he mistrusts her entirely: he trusts her to have his back in the field, to get the job done. But with this? No. On an intellectual he was pretty sure she didn't intend to kill him, but apparently his subconscious would not be moved on this one. Risking it regardless seems to involve an unacceptably high chance of ending in a humiliating panic attack.
no subject
His eyebrows go up at- well that was more skin than he was expecting to be seeing today. Or possibly ever. What the hell? But then his eyes catch the scars and all of a sudden everything makes sense again. Tit for tat. Fair enough. Some of them he's seen before, or at least knows of; the round one just below her throat, shown over a bottle of vodka on a night of strangely honest conversation, or the relatively new one on her stomach that has to be from that thing with the glass shards that Clint was bitching about. Others are entirely mysterious. He can't help but wonder about the stories behind them.
He tenses again as she catches his hand in hers, but he doesn't pull away. He's pretty sure he knows where she's going with this. Her skin is warm and smooth under his touch, textured by scars here and there. His fingertips leave faint trails of slick black oil behind. The damn stuff gets everywhere. He's still curious about the stories behind the scars; but contrary to popular opinion he's not a complete idiot, and asking when it's a coin toss whether or not she knows the story seems like a massive dick move.
His eyes flick up to hers at the question. "Uh...no, but no," he replies, which...made more sense in his head than it did aloud. After a moment he translates; "That is...no, no zapping, but still not a great idea." There are very, very few people he trusts enough for them to be able to touch the reactor without inducing a freakout of epic proportions. Pepper's one; Rhodey's another. Bruce or Clint could probably get away with it in theory, though it hasn't been tested in practice yet. But Natasha was never one. Not even the Natasha he knew and fought beside, before this whole mess.
On some level he does feel kind of bad about that. It's not that he mistrusts her entirely: he trusts her to have his back in the field, to get the job done. But with this? No. On an intellectual he was pretty sure she didn't intend to kill him, but apparently his subconscious would not be moved on this one. Risking it regardless seems to involve an unacceptably high chance of ending in a humiliating panic attack.