“There is always a Starbucks on the way,” Natasha chuckled. You could pretty much throw a stone in any direction and hit one, and if not Starbucks then at least some hole in the wall coffee joint. “Don’t worry, we’ll get some fuel into you so you can function.”

Removing her arms from around him, she followed him to her feet and retrieved her bag from her bedroom. Adding Clint’s belt to the bits of his clothing she still wore she joined him again at the door, slipping on her boots and jacket before stepping out through.

“Now there is an image,” she said, pausing to lock the door behind them. “Though maybe we should make it purple.”