Trust me, I am right. [She might not want to admit it outright, but he knew her story well enough. There was some information surrounding her that was purely classified, but he had been give enough history to be able to fill in the quiet blanks. There was a reason that she was shipped off to the US after all, but where she had come from was only marginally different from Romanoff.] Those kids you're on missions with, supporting them and taking care of them, and they doing that to you: that's as close to family as we get. So you'll take the test when they are as ready as you are.
[He could lecture her all about it, but what was the point. She would learn that someday, and there was a part of him that thought she would do better trying to be a teenager with moodiness and quiet rebellion rather than striving for adulthood so quickly. She had never been a kid, so why not take a moment to be a teenager? What he wouldn't give to go back to those days where he had so much freedom and fear and uncertainty. It had been terrible and wonderful all at the same time.
He swung his legs off the side of the bed and set his rifle aside so that he could bring himself to his feet and stretch as she moved off to the closet. He knew that there was a connection between her and Romanoff, though the details weren't clear. For better or worst, she would never been Romanoff; she would always be Ava.]
From my experience, the more you try to distance yourself from the shadow you're forced to live under, the more people will make comparisons. And I'm not telling you to wear black to be her; I'm telling you because I need someone to run this operation with me. [He knew the difference between Romanoff and Ava; hell, he had taken her to a ballgame, had watched her slowly melt with the experience of just being normal and being treated as just another young girl. No one had seen her as the Soviet shipment there; cheering for universal, people were happy, families all together and no one had thought anything of another older man and young woman; he was old enough to pass as her father after all.
He lifted his hand to take a protein bar from her, only so he could playfully tap the top of her head with it a moment later.]
Stop worrying like all you'll ever be is Romanoff. You're not, and you never will be. It's this worrying that's holding you back because you do yourself a disservice fretting. You're Ava, she's Romanoff. [And then he resorted to obnoxious kissy lips and a high pitched proud daddy voice.] Always be my little sprout, soon to leave the nest and become a real agent.
no subject
[He could lecture her all about it, but what was the point. She would learn that someday, and there was a part of him that thought she would do better trying to be a teenager with moodiness and quiet rebellion rather than striving for adulthood so quickly. She had never been a kid, so why not take a moment to be a teenager? What he wouldn't give to go back to those days where he had so much freedom and fear and uncertainty. It had been terrible and wonderful all at the same time.
He swung his legs off the side of the bed and set his rifle aside so that he could bring himself to his feet and stretch as she moved off to the closet. He knew that there was a connection between her and Romanoff, though the details weren't clear. For better or worst, she would never been Romanoff; she would always be Ava.]
From my experience, the more you try to distance yourself from the shadow you're forced to live under, the more people will make comparisons. And I'm not telling you to wear black to be her; I'm telling you because I need someone to run this operation with me. [He knew the difference between Romanoff and Ava; hell, he had taken her to a ballgame, had watched her slowly melt with the experience of just being normal and being treated as just another young girl. No one had seen her as the Soviet shipment there; cheering for universal, people were happy, families all together and no one had thought anything of another older man and young woman; he was old enough to pass as her father after all.
He lifted his hand to take a protein bar from her, only so he could playfully tap the top of her head with it a moment later.]
Stop worrying like all you'll ever be is Romanoff. You're not, and you never will be. It's this worrying that's holding you back because you do yourself a disservice fretting. You're Ava, she's Romanoff. [And then he resorted to obnoxious kissy lips and a high pitched proud daddy voice.] Always be my little sprout, soon to leave the nest and become a real agent.