Natasha didn’t often get nervous but when she was she tended to go silent, the exact opposite of Clint’s reaction.  He tried to fill the silence, tried to make conversation, and as usual just ended up putting his foot in his mouth.  She would have laughed had she the ability to do so right now.

While Clint conversed with the doctor Natasha took that moment to study him.  The young age didn’t bother her considering how young she had been when she had started her own training.  Age really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things; it was all about skill, knowledge, practice and, in the case of doctors, beside manners.  So far it seemed like Tomasini had that last one, at least.

When his attention turned to her Natasha met his eyes unflinchingly until he stated that she was further along than originally diagnosed.  He quickly amended, further but not too far, but she could already feel her stomach tightening, could already feel that fear settling.

Giving Clint’s knee a gentle squeeze she got to her feet again and disappeared behind the partition.  Why had she chosen a shirt with buttons?  Her fingers shook as she struggled with the offending fasteners until she was finally free; thankfully the pants were drawstrings and much easier.  breathe. Just breathe, she reminded herself as she pulled on the hospital gown .  Taking another moment to compose herself she stepped back out to join the two men.