“I’m not sure. For all I know I was cropping off heads or missing the cathedral in the background, but I enjoyed it nonetheless,” she said. It had been a glimpse into the lives of normal, happy people, something she had had little understanding of at the time. Her time with Alexei had been the closest she had come, but they hadn’t been the smiling picture type. That day she had seen couples, friends and families, all just enjoying each other and trying to see as many tourist traps as possible, all completely ignorant of the horrible things in the world around them. She was one of those horrible things, and she had captured their souls for them on film before catching a plane and assassinating a rather prominent political figure in Greece. She had slipped him some slow acting poison and was safely in Poland before his body was discovered in his bed the next morning.

She didn’t say any of this, though, and she didn’t need to. Clint knew who she was, he knew the things she had done, and they didn’t matter to him. He knew why this particular memory was important to her, and she knew it meant something to him that she told him the story.

Smiling against his chest when he started kissing her fingers, she chuckled at his words but couldn’t get the expected jab to the ribs in in her current position, so instead she poked him in the leg with her big toe. When he mentioned taking photographs of them she lifted her head so she could look at him. “I don’t need a photograph to remember,” she said before smiling warmly. “But I would like that.”

Maybe they could find someone else willing to take her role and snap a few pictures of them together.