[Black Widow]

Natasha Romanoff did not believe in magic.

That much was fairly predictable, even given the propensity of her people to be particularly ridiculous when it came to folklore and superstition. She didn't believe in beasts guarding the most beautiful scarlet flower in the world, or in ugly huntsmen who caught firebirds and bathed in boiling water to become beautiful, or in the gifts that Father Frost gave to young girls with loathly ladies for stepmothers. Neither did she automatically chase away bad luck birds when they landed on her windowsill or believe that her lips itching was a sign of kisses to come. Had her baby lived, she would have had no qualms about showing its face to anyone before forty days of solitude had passed them by.

She liked being Russian - on her good days, she was even proud of her heritage. But such follies, in any culture, were met with a certain amount of disdain and a shop called 'The Twenty First Arcana'...well, left to her own devices, Natasha would never have ventured near it of her own volition.

But while she did not believe in magic, she did believe in mutants. And Natasha believed that one worked here.

She was good at picking up gossip, something that had become almost automatic wherever she was now. She cast out her nets, smiled at talkative old people, was always listening even when she looked as if she wasn't paying any attention and, over time, something always turned up to grab her attention. At first, Natasha had been inclined to be scathing when she heard some woman (wispy-looking, dressed in bright colours and bold cloths, probably a vegan) enthuse to a friend about the talented fortune-teller she'd been to see in the city, about how she was 'dead-on' and 'freakily-accurate' and how the woman was 'so going again.' Except the shop name, and that of its owner, kept cropping up and, after some careful questions, her readings were said to be alarmingly specific. Natasha was familiar with the way couched answers and clever analysis of bodily cues could make anyone a mentalist (used them herself, in fact, when she needed to) but there were details in there that even she would struggle to guess accurately at.

Some would think this meant that magic was real. Natasha, however, was not that easily fooled and was almost entirely certain that she had a mutant on her hands. And a talented one at that.

Natasha liked talented mutants. Where there was talent, there was power. And where there was power, there was a chance for usefulness and that meant that there was someone who would, one day, appreciate details on this woman who could see through people armed with nothing more than some pathetic cards and, more importantly, the 'magic' in her blood.

Natasha may not have had that 'magic', definite human that she was, but she knew that knowledge was as often as useful a power as any mutation. And that was why she walked into the small shop one afternoon, all red hair and clothes in neutral colours, her expression sharper than it would have been if she'd been wearing the persona of 'Natalie Rushman'.

No, this mutant - sorry, suspected mutant - got the privilege of automatically getting Natasha. (Lucky her.)

[Tarot]

The number of people who stumbled into this store thinking that this was some kind of parlour trick or fun game, or even actual magic, was far, far too high. It annoyed Marie, since to some degree, it was shilling on her heritage and blatantly lying about something she was proud of, and to a greater degree, she was treating herself like some kind of joke, which frustrated her even more. But she had to, as declared the licence she had been given by the State of New York. By law, she was to treat herself like some sideshow act, some know it all freak, in the eyes of the law. Of course, she was nothing like that with people who actually came in. There, she was the real deal, telling people things that only they should know about themselves. The varieties of reactions were, in a simple way, quite beautiful; Some freaked out, some got angry and had to be forced out, some positively adored her. As always, it came down to a handful of predetermined reactions, so it was, as ever, utterly predictable, but when it came to her skill and talent, it was something she was proud of, absolutely proud of.

Part of what tickled her, however, was that no-one, absolutely no-one, had clocked on to the idea that she might be a mutant, not so far. So that was unusual, but interesting; She loathed the concept of 'magic' or that what she could do was some 'gypsy weirdness', as one customer had branded it, but it was a useful cover when it came to being a mutant. It hadn't brought any police or government types her way, yet, and that was something of a relief.

Today, however, was a quiet day - the quietest for some time. She'd had a handful of repeat customers who had dragged their friends along, one who'd actually gotten a new boyfriend thanks to the advice Marie had offered, and one fellow who'd come along to spout some abuse her way after she'd advised him that continuing with a handful of affairs was not going to work out; It was remarkable that someone dared try and blame the failure of such a thing on her, rather than themselves, but, Marie knew, it was human nature. Charles might vouch for them, but Marie had seen little to no evidence that they were really worthwhile. Not all of them as a whole, anyway. But, yes. It was slow , today; Marie found herself in the yard at the back of the store, idly fussing a tiny cat who seemed intent on showing her it's belly, then biting and clawing Marie when she moved to stroke it. It was, again, predictable, but Marie at least found cats to be honest about their nature. Dogs, too. Her ears, and the cats', perked up as she heard the jingle of the store bell. Stepping back through, the cat followed her despite her attempts to shoo it off, only for it to start molesting the spider lurking in the storage boxes Marie had in the back.

Useful, at the very least, then.

She was struck slightly as she entered the front of her store by the woman's presence; Marie was, of course, no telepath, but she was already taken with the sense of strength and got from this redhead. It was contrasted in her appearance, which seemed to be akin to that of any fashionable twenty-something with a taste for neutral colours living in New York, but.. Well, you'd never assume Charles Xavier harboured telepathic skills, would you? There was also something about the woman's expression that betrayed the softness of her features. Marie mentally shrugged, smiled and offered a handshake as she closed the distance between them. "Good day. I'm Marie, and this is the Twenty First Arcana, naturally. This is the very best experience of it's kind in the world," she boasted, "What kind of service are you interested in? The horse-shoe spread is exceedingly popular, right now."

Marie still got something of an odd feeling from this woman, as well as that exceptional strength, but she'd imagine all would be revealed in time.

[Black Widow]

Even in her everyday life, Natasha had an odd and inherent dislike of doors with bells that rang when they opened. It was most likely something that stemmed from her usual desire to be unobtrusive, unnoticed. Having her arrival anywhere come, quite literally, with bells attached to it was not how the average spy liked to live her life.

She only spared them a dark glance for the span of a single heartbeat though and her attention, soon, was all for the woman who emerged from the back. (Well, not all of her attention, not when she was always aware of her back, her surroundings, her closest three exits, her two most immediate back-up plans and so forth. But what was left, the woman got that at least.)

As well as bells, Natasha wasn't hugely keen on touching people, but there was nothing hesitant about the smooth, graceful way she reached over to grasp the proffered hand. "Natasha Romanoff," she replied, and Marie may not have known it, but the name by which she introduced herself was a clear sign of just what she wanted out of this encounter, as whom she was approaching the woman.

"And, no, I am not here for any sort of reading pertaining to myself." The ghost of a smile flickered across her surprisingly delicate features, cool and amused. "I don't think you'd like what you'd see, anyway." The redhead slipped a hand into the bag hanging at her side and, when it came back into view, it held a sheaf of manilla files - all relatively thin, but Natasha was nothing if not organised.

"I was actually here to discuss these with you." She handed them over to Marie - they were her own files, though lacking in anything related to Natasha herself of course, but they detailed several clients of Marie's, with accounts of both the 'readings' they had received and Natasha's own background checks on them and how the two methods seemed to invariably have produced the same results.

Except, of course, Marie got paid for hers.

Natasha was all calm composure as she raised one fine eyebrow in Marie's direction, seemingly relaxed, but then appearances really were deceiving where the ex-spy was concerned, and she was intrigued as to how the other woman would react to such a...direct approach. "They're awfully detailed for someone who operates out of an establishment such as this." That eyebrow rose an iota higher. "So either there is an FBI uplink being hidden in your backroom or you have...alternate methods of knowing this much about people." Natasha's full mouth turned slightly upwards at the edges. "If the latter is true, I would be most interested in having a discussion with you about them."

[Tarot]

Marie cocked her head slightly as she shook the woman's hand, getting, again, immediately getting a stronger feel for that sense of power and strength from her - although she was convinced that this was not a mutant; Instead, Marie got vaguely similar feelings to the times she had encountered police officers - not entirely the same, but there was a feel for authority and procedure and the like, somehow. Hm.. A grin formed as she was told her name; "That's a joke, yes?" she asked, her head cocking slightly again, "It's just.. Well, I have distant relatives in Eastern Europe on my living grandmother's side. By the usual naming traditions and conventions, I think you'd be.. Natalia Romanova, no?" she asked, fairly certain she was on the money, but as much as she got the naming conventions of Russia, she was still occasionally confused by them.

She immediately formed a partly dismayed, partly suspicious look when Natasha explained she wasn't hear for a personal reading, and that she probably wouldn't like the things she saw; "Given the range of people I've done readings for, you'd be surprised," she stated, not even beginning to mention some of her more illicit and violent night-time activities, which were far more disgusting, in their own ways, than some of the things she saw in her readings. Still, Marie's eyes narrowed suspiciously as Natasha withdrew a set of files, handing them to her; She leafed through them and glanced - only moving her eyes - at the redhead as she read and understood what they were. Closing the one she was reading, she grinned slightly, saying "You do realise these are something of a violation of confidentiality between me and my customers?" although if her customers were dumb enough to talk to Natasha about what were, for the most part, meant to be private experiences, more fool them. What concerned her more were the actual details of the customers, clearly taken from more official sources than Marie. "Either this is illegal, or you're some manner of official. Either way, very impressive," she stated.

So, Natalia Romanova, who are you?

She didn't have that nebbish look of bureaucracy about her like the officials she'd met before - those who invaded her store and made sure it was sufficiently tacky for their obscene laws - and as such, that merely opened up more questions. So, Marie was suspicious, definitely, but not particularly alarmed, unless any moves were made to physically accost her or the threat of being arrested was made. She didn't, after all, know Natasha's intentions..

A derisive chuckle emerged as Natasha proposed two options in terms of how she got the information she did. "The FBI? If you can dig up all this on my customers, then you'd know that I'm not entirely running according to the standards laid down by the law, here," she explained, not even able to understand how Natasha had come to that conclusion, "The more professional and authentic readings I give are in direct violation of some New York penal code or some other such nonsense. Not exactly something I'd expect the fibbies to be dealing in. So.. That leaves alternate methods," and Marie's lips deliberately curved into a dark smirk, getting the feeling Natasha already knew what she was. If this was going to turn ugly, then.. Well, she would defend herself. But for now, she was sufficiently intrigued. "So. If we're going to talk, please sit. Would you care for a drink?"

[Black Widow]

Well, that was a nice change.

Natasha was rarely surprised. And even when she was, it tended to be in the heat of an operation, where there wasn't enough time to make any sort of 'golly gosh, gee whiz, would you look at that?' face. (Besides, it was practically illegal for her to look anything other than coolly calm at all times given her job, and reputation was almost as important as results in her field.)

But she was very, very, very used to the average American not picking up on the (admittedly subtle, albeit pointed) joke written into the alias she'd assumed for when she was on US soil. One fine eyebrow shot up in features that were far softer than what lay beneath them and, for all that this little visit was all business, Natasha found room in her head to be amused and just a little bit appreciative.

"No, Natalia was the name I was given at birth, you are correct." That was easy enough to admit to, expedited by the fact that her trainers and later employers had been extremely thorough in eradicating all evidence that one 'Natalia Romanova' had ever existed. So Natasha had no qualms about admitting to her original, correct naming convention and a small smile ghosted around her painted lips. "But when I came Stateside I fancied a change, and the Americans butchered my family name as it was, so..." A hint of a mocking bow, just a slight bending of the waist and a vague gesture with one hand. "...Natasha Romanoff became the name by which I introduced myself over here. And it has stuck, somewhat."

Natasha looked unapologetic, but innocently so. Well, that was a lie - something about Natasha's face when she was relaxed never hinted at virtue. Maybe it was the faint trace of dry amusement in her eyes, the detachment with which she treated so much of life, or just the way that her lips would have been cherubic on anyone else, but seemed fairly sinful on her. Either way, she didn't seem at all fazed at the accusations of confidentiality breaches, with her thoughts running along a similar line - if people were foolish enough to say things out loud, then they deserved to have some attentive soul write them down and make them liable.

"I didn't realise that it was a crime to ask questions and receive answers," she said lightly, her hair shifting around the angles of her jaw. "Most of your clients were very eager to spill every detail about their experience with you." Her eyes were vaguely ironic as she nodded at Marie. "You may perhaps wish to talk to them about that, if indeed you do want to be less...easy to find."

Again, Natasha looked guileless when questions arose regarding the exact nature of her being here, but proved herself an oxymoron once more by also appearing completely wicked as she did so. Who was Natalia Romanova?

Good question. Very good question. Next question.

Ah, good, the smirk was an excellent sign, if only because it proved the woman was not some wilting, squeaking hippy who was going to wet herself the moment Natasha looked vaguely intimidating. It also implied a certain amount of cooperation was going to be likely, so long as they restricted themselves to smiling sharply at each other, so Natasha nodded graciously at the offer of a seat. "No, thank you," was her answer though in regards to the drink even as she slipped smoothly into the proffered chair. Not accepting food or drink was a long ingrained habit now and she was altogether more interested in what secrets lay behind Marie Colbert's pretty, dark-haired exterior. "May I assume that you are at least willing to answer some questions then?" There was that arched eyebrow again. "It would be much...easier - for both of us - if that were the case."

[Tarot]

Given Americans seemed to have such a poor knack for picking these things up, that should've been a big old clue that Marie wasn't from around here - as was the accent she displayed, which was most definitely not American. Still, she liked surprising people; Usually, she only managed to do it when someone had sat down opposite her and had begun a reading, but this was a particular delight, spotting that eyebrow rise. Marie smirked, and nodded understandingly as 'Natasha' - she was going to have to get used to calling this woman that rather than what she knew was the correct name - explained how Americans (naturally) had managed to butcher her name and she had simply decided to change it. "Well, at least it suits you," she remarked, "But yes, Americans do have a knack for either butchering or completely misunderstanding names. Take me, for instance - it's not quite as bad as them skewering your name, but still - Everyone seems to assume that I'm somehow related to the fellow who presents The Colbert Report," she grumbled. "I mean, I suppose he's funny, but this is the only place where there's been some kind of link assumed between me and him." She shrugged, again knowing it wasn't quite as bad as what happened with Natasha's name, or quite the same, but still.

Americans. They felt free to butcher whatever they wished, but the second you upset them, god help you if you got in the way of their pride.

Natasha was most definitely a curious one, though - Marie got that sense of strength, still, but it wasn't without a sense of humour, which she caught slightly as she glanced up from the set of files. Definitely a curious one, and Marie was, of course, already suspicious of her, given she had managed to put together a fairly extensive folder of information on her clients; What was her purpose here? Did she intend blackmail? Was she some manner of detective or something along those lines? Her eyes narrowed slightly as Natasha began to explain how she had found all this information - by talking, as she suspected, to rather stupid clients. Although stupid was somewhat unfair, of course, given that Marie partly relied on word of mouth for her store to stay afloat - she just didn't expect anyone to be so stupid as to blatantly start yammering every little detail of their experiences to a total stranger. "Again, it's more their confidentiality than my own that I'm concerned about. If they wish to spill their guts about their experiences, so be it. I can't help that my customers walk away quite pleased and satisfied with what they hear," she replied softly, "And it's not like I'm trying to hide away. This street has hundreds walking down it every day. The store's not exactly meant to be impossible to find - otherwise I would be out of a job."

"Judging by your silence on the matter, however," she trailed off thoughtfully, looking Natasha over, "I'm going to be that you're not FBI or New York Police." That seemed like a reasonable judgement, somehow. Natasha was a difficult one to figure out, however, and Marie did noticeably continue to glance at her and look her over, even as they sat. She likely wouldn't get anything without a reading, which did not seem to be on the cards - excuse the pun - at the moment, so it was a case of looking at her and trying to figure out what she could. The handshake had given her very little, for once.

But still, she was indeed willing to cooperate so long as she wasn't being threatened. The second that occurred, she would sacrifice this store to get away, if necessary, because there was no way in hell that Marie-Ange Colbert was being blackmailed, threatened or pushed into doing anything that she didn't like. That, fortunately, didn't seem to be Natasha's plan; A cordial nod followed her refusal of a drink, and Marie relaxed into her own chair, crossing her legs and smiling slightly as she was asked if she was willing to answer some questions; "That does depend on what they are. Too intrusive, and I shall refuse, but.. For the moment, certainly. If you want to know about how I know the things I know, I'd be happy to tell you, provided you can assure me of certain things - like what I tell you going no further than the two of us." She shrugged, since surely Natasha understood the merits of some privacy, and Marie did not want her status as a mutant splashed across the front pages of New York newspapers tomorrow morning if she proved to have the wrong feeling about this woman.

"Well. Easy is good. Easy is definitely better, as you say. Ask away," she responded with something of a carefree gesture. Perhaps she was being a little too cocky, given she knew nothing of Natasha, but whilst she knew the woman wasn't exactly benevolent, she could tell her intentions weren't quite malevolent, either. At least, not yet..

[Black Widow]

Natasha rather pointedly looked the other woman over. Took in the haircut that appeared to be home done, the ridiculously large eyes, the full lips. Raised an eyebrow and smiled just a little.

"You hardly look overly right-wing to me," was her dry response and she shrugged in the liquid, understated way in which she tended to move when she was just being 'Natasha' - her flashy, panther-sleek moves were reserved for when she was being actively dangerous as opposed to just potentially so. "They do seem...overly hung-up on names and just having the one." Her expression turned a trifle droll, a look she wore that often left people wondering whether the deadpan comment she'd just voiced had been in seriousness or jest. "Perhaps that's why I prefer to have one for every day of the week."

(No, really, she probably did. Even had the ID to prove it, plus various packets of back-up documents and fail-safe identities stashed in her multiple safe-rooms around the city. Let no one ever accuse Natasha of not being prepared for the worst.)

Her gaze, as it rested on Marie, was clear. It was also intense and no nonsense and almost old in a way that Natasha's face had no business looking to be. "There is a difference between hiding in plain sight and wishing to be found by nobody," she said, her tone deceptively light. "I'm assuming that you have not yet been found by anybody who matters, given how you are still here and not someone's pet mutant." She didn't appear to blink overly much as she continued to study Marie's face. "I know various parties who would relish the idea of controlling someone with an ability such as yours. It must be...a luxury, for you, to have remained 'freelance' for so long."

Because that was Natasha's business, knowing what people could offer. Where to go to get information, for favours, for very particular skill-sets. As far as she was concerned, the entire world was a business, founded on what people could provide - either offered freely, traded, or just taken. Mutants didn't scare her, not as a sign that her kind was potentially obsolete or by representing a powerful unknown. Like everyone, like humans, they were just another commodity. One Natasha intended to know as much about as possible before the storm came upon them.

Hence why she was here and not immediately leaning heavily on the woman concerned. Natasha was fully capable of being threatening, even menacing in spite of her deceptive looks, but she liked to be subtler than that at first. For now, she was just talking. Scoping. Feeling out the ground. Because she couldn't recall a mutant she'd interacted with before with as much to potentially offer as Miss Colbert here and, even outside of her all-encompassing professional interests, Natasha was intrigued.

(That didn't happen often.)

"I shall try not to be insulted at even the hinted possibility that I could be so mainstream," Natasha said, but she nodded her approval at Marie's willingness to at least attempt some sort of polite discourse. Natasha liked 'polite'. It was neat. Less likely to leave an obvious trail in the way that hospital visits and dead bodies did. "I would be interested to know the limitations of what you can do, but the extent as well. Your range, shall we say." Her gaze tracked once around the decor of the store and her look was more neutral than her feelings on the subject. "I would also like to know if the 'fortune-teller' aspect of it all, with the cards, is just a front to fit in with what the humans expect, or whether your power is actually wrapped up in that particular medium."

Oh, look, she was even polite enough to couch the questions as seeming requests, rather than demands. How positively darling of her.

[Tarot]

Marie noted the way she was being looked over and pondered, for a brief moment, why; She wasn't suspicious, but she quickly realised that it might have something to do with the Stephen Colbert reference she'd made. Again, Marie did not see any resemblance, though one could argue that they both had their moments of being comically infuriated - Naturally, hers were fewer and far between than the more famous Colbert. Her lips curved into a smirk when the redhead suggested she didn't exactly look right-wing; "Thank the heavens for that one," she remarked, although truthfully, Marie had no distinct political stance. She had no business involving herself in American politics, after all, and she generally loathed politicians as a rule; The vast majority of European ones, in her eyes, had proven less than trustworthy for the people that put them where they were.

But... That was a tangent Marie wasn't keen to follow; Her eyes instead narrowed when Natasha suggested she had a name for every day of the week - She got the distinct feeling that wasn't a joke. Which again, raised the question of who the hell was this woman? It was an answer Marie didn't think she was likely to get any time soon, but she was still intrigued. There did, however, feel like there was a distinct shift in things as Natasha's gaze met hers; If she wasn't confident that Natasha had some genuine purpose - an ulterior motive, perhaps - in being here, then Marie might have been genuinely intimidated; The other woman's gaze was like.. Ice. Or steel. It wasn't entirely pleasant to be on the receiving end of, if Marie was being entirely honest, but she smiled slightly as it seemed Natasha had found the perfect terms to describe her current status; Hiding in plain sight was about right, she supposed, although it was to Marie's benefit that she was familiar with the clichés surrounding conventional fortune telling and could use those to her favour when necessary. As such, she played the part of a hokey fortune teller well, when she needed to. So, again; "You're quite on the money, there," she remarked, getting the feeling, somehow, that Natasha was playing the same game as her, only she played a much better game.

Hiding in plain sight indeed. There was definitely something going on with this woman, although you wouldn't think it at all to look at her now.

"That depends on your definition of 'people who matter'," Marie remarked cryptically; "And that is a very, very malleable definition. But, I'll assume you're taking government representatives. Law enforcement. Certain figures from various aspects of organised crime? No. I pay my rent, my bills, and I play the oblivious, cheesy fortune-telling idiot for anyone 'important'-" and the term was in brackets, there, "-Who might just darken my door. You being the exception, of course," but then she had the feeling Natasha at least had something of interest to offer, and there was no denying the packets of information she had brought in about her customers; But rather than play the cornered rat, she was going to play along. She had, of course, neglected to mention that she had met people she considered important; Charles chief amongst them, naturally, but there were plenty of others she had no intention of speaking about with a woman she hardly knew. "As for being someone's pet mutant, well... I just prefer to be several dozen steps ahead of their game," she remarked, again somewhat slightly cryptic - or at least, it would be to someone who hadn't been researching her, apparently.

"That implies I could be brought to heel like a dog, if they desired," she retorted when Natasha suggested the luxury of her current situation. She said nothing more, but the tone of her voice clearly implied that she had methods of protecting herself, or if necessary, would kill herself before allowing such a thing to happen. Marie was no-one's servant. No-one's toy. That said, it again made her question Natasha's intent; if the woman proved to be antagonistic, she would bury her along with this store.

Fortunately, that seemed to not be the case as they sat opposite each other and talked on fairly civil terms, although Marie was not entirely comfortable with answering the questions of a woman she did not know, but there was nothing overly intrusive being asked yet, and nothing that she probably wouldn't have revealed during a common or garden reading, if necessary. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at the notion of 'range', still not entirely sure of exactly how her powers did work, and as such, she could only speak from experience. "My abilities are centred around the Tarot. Specifically, the twenty-two Major Arcana. From the Fool to the World. It's the general idea that each of the Major Arcana are reflective of or informed by a consistent chain of a human life. Trials. Struggles. Successes. Love. Great changes. They represents pieces of our lives. Now, as you can tell from the information you've garnered from my more.. Hm, loose-lipped customers, I deal in divination." She paused, looking for any signs of confusion on the other woman's face at the notion; "But I use the Major Arcana as a conduit. It requires.. Contact from the person I am performing a reading for - normally I ask them to shuffle the deck of twenty two cards - and then we have a spread. This is like a conventional reading in that it can be anything from one to up to.. Ah.. Twelve cards, I believe, is the maximum? But each type of spread has a different function. Some are designed to display an overlay of a life in general. Some deal with the compatibility of a lover. Some spreads deal with the immediate future and are comprised of just one card."

She shifted to become more comfortable in her chair, adding "Where I come in.. Dependant upon the spread - normally I favour a horseshoe - I can correlate the aspect of an Arcana card to the aspect of the person I am reading. For instance, in looking at someone's past, I could draw, say, Death. And it would be reflective of a massive change in their lives, and I would know nearly every. Last. Detail." Marie shrugged, saying "Naturally, there are benefits to this and problems. I would, for instance, only see events in their past related to the aspect of the card, to carry our example from before. But.. I do believe that rather than pure chance, the choice of card for each aspect of their life is predetermined. I am meant to know what I find, and that specifically."

"Hm," she sounded brightly, "I think that answers both your questions, no? Two birds, one stone," she remarked, "But generally, the hokey fortune-teller stuff, it's for officials. Police. Anyone who might look to shut me down, since the law states I have to appear as a deliberate joke or a bit or fun, otherwise I'm illegally misleading people. So it's what I'm forced to go along with, but I rarely adhere to it unless absolutely necessary. In fact.. I find it insulting. Playing up and outright mocking an aspect of my own heritage is.. Aggravating. Imagine, for instance, that someone expected you to perform, say, Trepak, of the Nutcracker, because you're Russian. And then imagine this is considered a duty that you're meant to follow by law." She trailed off into silence with a sufficiently displeased expression on her face, hoping Natasha got the point there..

[Black Widow]

In a very arrogant sort of way, Natasha was too used to generally always being right, that little victories such as guessing something correctly tended to not even make her feel smug anymore. Apparently, 'spy' was synonymous with 'know it all', even with a preface of ex- to go along with it.

(There was no such thing as an ex-spy, someone had once told Natasha. She'd had to agree with him, mainly because the barrel of her gun had been kissing his forehead at the time and she'd really just been proving him right, hadn't she?)

The point was, though, that Natasha did not gloat. Or, at least, with little things such as having enough common sense to work out that sometimes it was easier to attract less attention in a crowd than when actively hiding, it wasn't worth her acting as if it had somehow been an achievement to guess that. So she just smiled a little (subtly of course) and moved on, as was her way.

There was a pointedly questioning look in response to a somewhat ambiguous question, Natasha's response to anything cryptic. She was far more fond of being a mystery than actively facing one and it did not often suit her to leave a stone unturned. Even a small one. You didn't survive as long as she had in her line of work without learning to be thorough, to be scrupulous, without realising that it was the tiny, sordid, hidden details that made or broke a mission.

In short, Natasha was either extremely nosy, highly curious or just one of the best in the world at what she did. She liked to think it was the second. And, either way, she was hardly letting that go. "You make it sound like there have been others," she asked, probingly, her eyes direct and inscrutable all at once. "People who don't fall under an official umbrella. Anyone interesting?" She asked this lightly, as if discussing the weather, but there had always been something about Natasha that implied things had weight behind them, no matter her flippancy. She was, after all, a knife dressed up in a woman's body, and when she couldn't be bothered to hide that or it was to her advantage to show it...well, that was rather clear.

She remained impassive in the face of such a retort, ever the untouchable one, ever the isolated woman whom it was difficult to insult just because she didn't care. But her mind whirred away all the same, categorising everything, storing it all for later analysis. She'd been taught this as a girl, to remember everything about a situation, or as much as she could, and if details had not been produced by her when quizzed about it later...well, the Red Room taught with sticks, not carrots. Though Natasha could hardly fault the end results, vain as that probably was. "Everyone has their weak spots, I've found," she said, almost innocently even as her eyes bored into Marie's. "Everyone has an area that, when pressed, makes them kneel." She looked away to examine her fingernails, apparently unruffled even as disturbing words fell like drifting blossom in spring from her lips. "It only takes time to make someone obey, time and being smart about learning where to break them."

Still, she continued to look casually attentive even as she drank in all that Marie could do, as delimited by the woman herself. It was a surprisingly detailed and thorough explanation - Natasha was usually inclined to think civilians too prone to gloss over important details or chaotic in their delivery to be truly useful, but Marie's analysis of her own powers was a nice change. Not that that showed on her face though, even as she stored it all away within the vaults in her head, and looked thoughtfully at the darker woman.

"I dance to Trepak surprisingly well, actually," she said with a trace of amusement colouring her words. "For a woman, at least. But I understand the gist of what you are attempting to say." She ignored Marie's displeased look, for the most part, and leaned in again, her gaze more intent now. "So that is how you do it...now, though, I am interesting in for whom you tend to perform these readings. Because there must be some names in there that I would find...interesting."

This was the pivotal part, the trickier section. Because if this woman proved too in love with the notion and ideals of confidentiality...well, then Natasha was going to have to step up a level. For now, though, she just looked at Marie, looked at her and waited to see which path this woman would choose.

[Tarot]

Marie knew it was probably something of a mistake to even reference the other people who had visited her store, be it Charles, Raven, Wanda or any of them. Given the woman had a distinct interest in mutants, seemingly, Marie had most likely fucked up, here. If she said no now, in terms of there being anyone that Natasha should know about, then what was going to happen? She was already getting bad vibes from this woman despite the relatively pleasant presentation, so.. Marie frowned, and visibly. She didn't sense this one going all too well, somehow, and when asked about it, she relaxed into her seat, considering her options for a moment; "No-one I would care to mention to a stranger, I'm afraid. If you haven't found them, then it's because they're not meant to be, found. Or at the very least, you're not mean to find them yet," she replied thoughtfully, looking somewhat innocent, even a little meek, but her tone was clearly defensive, to a degree; Again, without knowing the specifics about Natasha, this conversation was quickly moving beyond the pleasantries and into territory that was clearly rocky and unstable. It was not a sensation she liked. "Since you've declined to a reading, then naturally I can't say if you will or would meet the people I consider to be relatively important," she finally added.

Simple as. She just couldn't tell if the woman was suddenly going to throw her in a chokehold or threaten to slice her neck open for saying these things.

She was, of course, massively intimidated by Natasha's next set of words, and her retort was the equivalent of using a sheet of one-ply toilet paper to try and hold back the torrent of a mile-wide river, given the redhead seemed to have much more experience in these matters than Marie did; What had she stumbled into here? Why did it feel like her world was turning upside down slightly with this woman's arrival into her life? What was more disturbing was the kind of casual innocence with which Natasha spoke about these things; Did she have experience in them because she had been made to obey herself, or was she the one making people obey her? "If you are threatening me, then all I can state is that there are no laws against a skill such as mine. And I am quite well equipped to defend myself if necessary, should anyone wish to come along and try," she warned, although she was increasingly feeling a desire to have Thanatos crush Natasha where she sat; Still, best to at least try and maintain civility, even if it was a mere illusion of the thing. She just.. The other woman was just unnerving and a little creepy, now, and when it was Marie thinking such things, it was noteworthy. "You make it sound like you've broken people before, though," she added after a moment's thought, "Is that your intention for me?" she asked with a slightly cocked head, her normally quite large eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Natasha. Who was she? And who came in somewhere saying things like this to someone she didn't even know?

Marie's questions were, of course, the direct approach, but.. Well, Natasha was hardly being subtle, was she? Still. Who was Natasha? And why did she basically seem to have the feminine equivalent of balls of steel?

Despite her misgivings about Natasha, she nonetheless explained her abilities, feeling a little coerced because she had no idea who this woman was, and as such, she could bring down any amount of thunder and Marie would not know, not unless she could somehow make her handle the deck of cards before this was over. Her eyes narrowed again slightly, this time with amusement, when Natasha implied she danced well to Trepak, but she nonetheless got the point. Marie imagined that might be a sight some men might not complain about, but otherwise, it seemed... Somewhat bizarre as a mental image, especially when factoring in the oddly cold woman opposite her, so difficult was she to read. She shifted uncomfortably when Natasha leant forward, not entirely enjoying being under the woman's gaze, and then her eyebrows lifted when she was flat-out asked who Marie had been performing readings for. This was going to be incredibly difficult, and she had next to no idea if the woman was going to turn vicious if she said 'no' to her. And so, she decided to employ a slightly evasive tactic, for the moment; "Again, that would depend on your definition of important. It could differ from mine. I have no idea whether you are after say, politicians, policemen, doctors, other people like me." Her tone was light enough, but not flippant, since she knew this was a fairly dangerous game.

"Dependant upon who you're looking for, I'm not necessarily willing to divulge anything." She certainly wasn't going to spill her guts when it came to say, Charles, after all.

[Black Widow]

Only Nat could take a frown - an obvious look of dislike or of hostility or of disquiet in the person to whom she was talking - as a sign that she was doing her job correctly. Sometimes, she approached people as harmless, and then she could and would be friendly. As with the Mercury target, she could be sweet and guileless and alarmingly unthreatening when she wanted to be.

With this woman, though, Natasha didn't see the point and she therefore didn't care if Marie thought her suspicious or scary or any number of unpleasant things. She was actually seeking a certain air of menace here, though walking the line between being overtly threatening and more ambiguously dangerous was interesting enough to keep her attention. People were different, all of them, and Natasha had the feeling that the wide-eyed woman (seriously, those were an impressive set of peepers she had on her there) would push back if Natasha did so too hard.

Balance. That was all it ever was. And it was a dynamic, constantly adapting game to maintain it in any given situation.

(Predictably, Natasha loved it.)

Any degree of defensiveness carried weight to it, a sign that Natasha was at least having some sort of effect, and her response was to smile again - small and sharp and falsely sweet. It came with having a face as delicate as hers, the fact that she could look so surprisingly hard when she wished to in spite of the soft lines of her features and her full mouth. Some things shone through flesh, though, and beneath her skin Natasha was the razor blade she'd been honed to be.

"Classed as a stranger, how heart-breaking." For all the quietly mocking theatrics, there was a brisk practicality to the way that Natasha pushed some of that red hair back over her shoulder and smiled in a completely unreassuring way at the other woman. "I can be your friend, Marie," she said, sweet as cyanide. "I can be a very good friend."

...the implication that she'd make a worse enemy went unsaid, but hung heavily between them nonetheless.

The redhead raised an eyebrow as amusement flickered briefly through her eyes. "I maintain that you wouldn't like what you saw in my past," she said, all confident dismissal. "Or in my future. Save your readings for those who need them." It was an interesting power, yes, but Natasha only had faith in her own decisions, in the future she made for herself. And as for her past...well, she'd already lived that once. No need to harp on it once again. Far more fun to focus on the now, on the woman across from her who was delightfully blunt even as she was being threatened.

The amused look persisted in Natasha's eyes, with a definite air of condescension to it. "Oh, there are definitely laws against mine," she said, low and wicked. Her lips curved in all of their red fullness. "And, sweetheart, if I was really threatening you, you'd be aware of it." More than that, she'd probably be bleeding, but hey, semantics. "This is just a little chat. A...discussion. About your options." Her smile widened. "What use, Miss Colbert, would you be to me broken?"

Letting her dwell on that, Natasha leaned back in her chair, having moved forwards to ensure direct and intense eye contact for the previous exchange. "I am interested in people who can make a difference. People who can change things. Who can affect things." There was that arched eyebrow again. "I have my suspicions, based on my own speciality. But yours...yours is an interesting set of predictions. I would be intrigued, if you had a list in your head of people who will be important in the times ahead - pivotal individuals, if you will - to see what would come of comparing our lists."

One nail tapped tinnily against the table-top, pointed and delicate even as Natasha continued to stare at Marie. "You have your honour, your integrity. I understand that. You have your pride and it does not respond well to being, as you put it, 'threatened.' But you are a smart woman as well and a mutant in a climate that does not currently support you. You have the opportunity here to impact the future. To make sure that events go a certain way." Her gaze was steady, but cold, for all her displays of amusement and humour and irony. Beneath that, Natasha was all cold, Russian ice, hard as the heart of a glacier when it came to getting what she wanted. "There are...benefits, that come with cooperating with me here."

[Tarot]

Again, she honestly shouldn't have mentioned any of the other visitors she had here; At the same time, how was she to know whether or not this woman would just pluck them out of her head anyway? It was massively, massively unnerving, and it was a sign of how out of her depth she was in a city like New York; She could deal with people like Charles, like Raven, and like Wanda, but.. She'd never even contemplated that there could be someone like Natasha, someone who, if not antagonistic, was at the very least incredibly morally grey. It was equally frustrating that Marie couldn't figure this woman out, down to her refusal to have a reading done, which usually gave her a lot of the clues she needed to know about someone - a lot of what she knew about Charles, for instance, came from the reading and not so much what they talked about; Without the reading, he would have merely come across as a really rather charming and quite... Eccentric man, Marie felt; Not that there was anything wrong with charming and eccentric, of course.

Her eyes narrowed, however, when Natasha launched into some obvious melodramatics which, like many jokes, would've been a lot funnier to Marie if they weren't aimed at her, somehow. She was put off by just how dark and threatening this woman could be - it didn't seem to be the kind of thing her face was built for; It was like expecting an infuriated look off of Marie, she felt - with her eyes and the like, it just didn't come together as an equation in her mind; The same could be said here; "I prefer to choose my own friends," she stated simply, her large eyes narrowing, "Ones that aren't foisted on me with thinly-veiled threats. And mockery. And intimidation." Yes, she could push back if she was pushed hard enough, but.. Well, Marie was worried it wouldn't be enough. Natasha clearly knew what she was here for and was willing to push to get it - the only question was how much would she push? Things eased up a little, however, when Marie derived just a little satisfaction from the idea that Natasha had enough faith in herself to seemingly decide her own future.

As much as part of her loathed this woman, Marie found that really rather admirable. It still didn't exactly solve her problem, however; Marie remained on the back foot, and uncomfortably so.

Marie didn't know what to make of the redhead, especially as she declared that there were laws against her kind of skills; The tone of Natasha's voice didn't exactly bother Marie as much as it probably should, but her eyes narrowed again, wondering exactly who this woman was. The curious smile faltered a little when she was told that if she was being threatened, then she'd know about it. If this is how you supposedly treat 'friends'-" and her fingers actually made the appropriate brackets, "-Then I don't want to know what you do to your enemies. As it is.. Well.. Why should I even think of considering my 'options' with someone I know next to nothing about, and has hardly been that forthcoming since coming in here?" she stated. She wasn't going to be.. Be bamboozled into something she didn't want to be part of. Not a chance. But she did veer wildly between liking certain aspects of this woman and her personality, and downright loathing her. It was.. It was a interesting contrast.

Her eyes naturally narrowed once more when Natasha asked her what use she'd be broken. She wanted to come up with some kind of witty response, something to make her look a little stronger and get her off the back foot, but.. Nothing.

Still, despite her completely mixed feelings about this woman, Marie cocked her head, intrigued, when Natasha explained why she was here, and why she was interested in her ability. Her eyes widened with a touch of humour, and she actually laughed; "Honestly? That's what you've come for? You kept making it sound like it was something utterly serious, like I was going to be tortured or something if I didn't help you out. But.. Well... That's not the way my abilities work," she informed Natasha, clearly somewhat relieved, "I don't have a catalogue of people in my head of who's who and who's important. I could tell you a little about them, possibly, based on names, but.. Well, for this to work effectively, I'd either need something that they have had a lot of tactile contact with, or a sample from them, something that could touch the cards I use," she stated simply. "If that's really all this is, then I'd be happy to compare lists, but.. Well, unless you have samples from them - even if it's... Maybe a signature, or something along those lines, I don't know.. Then I can't offer you any guarantees about the quality of the information I'd be giving you."

It really was the truth, there, and if Natasha had the kind of skills that would let her find people who could change things, then she could easily see Marie's sincerity there.

She bit her lip slightly as Natasha, seemingly more reasonable for a moment, started explaining that she had the chance to change things and to impact the future; That really, really wasn't the way Marie saw things, but she decided against lecturing Natasha on the entire nature of her perspective and what repeated use of her ability had enabled her to see. "You can list all the benefits you like, and I'm willing to cooperate with the matter you have detailed already, but.. Well, there are certain individuals close to my heart that I have no intention of talking about," she told Natasha pointedly. "And no amount of benefits or attempts to break me would see me shatter the trust I have with them."

[Black Widow]

If Natasha had been a prideful person, she might have been insulted to have had her threats labelled as thinly-veiled. If there was a veil, if it wasn't obvious that she had the capacity to be a life ruiner (and not in the classic internet way) then she was starting to lose her touch and should retire back to Russia to raise geese. And possibly yaks. She'd never really expended much energy on planning her retirement plan, since she never expected to need one.

On that charming note, though, she wasn't prideful, not in a way that might have been expected of a person in her field. Confident, yes, but in an untouchable, self-sustained sort of way, wherein other people's opinions mattered so little that offence was rarely taken. And this woman was preferable to some of her other targets, the ones who swung wild punches, definitely the ones who wept and blubbered and broke entirely too early, for where was the fun in that?

No, Miss Colbert had spine. But also common sense. And as another woman with both, Natasha could respect that, even if she would have no qualms about ruining her if events necessitated it. For now, though, as Marie's eyes got narrower, Natasha's just opened wider, lips parting in affected shock.

"I'll buy you a drink next time if you prefer making friends that way," she said, well-versed as she was in being disturbingly flippant even in the middle of threatening someone. She was certainly seemingly nonchalant enough about it to snort when the other woman abused those finger quotation marks. "If people in this world only ever did something after acquiring knowledge and careful thought, then nothing would ever get done." She inspected her nails briefly before looking up levelly at Marie through those thick eyelashes of hers. "Take the friend option, Miss Colbert," she said in a tone so amiable that it was clearly the opposite. "I generally advise people to do so, if only so that the way I treat my enemies stays nicely and safely in the realm of their imaginations only."

(Take that 'thinly-veiled'.)

Natasha raised an arch brow at her obvious relief and that in itself was useful, the act of being quietly menacing, of putting people on edge...and then asking for less of them than they expected. It paid, sometimes, to not be greedy, at least not at the start. Because then they were relieved, almost grateful that there was not more asked of them. And yet, still, in the back of their minds was the sense of a threat having been dodged, one that could still return if they did not comply...

Not that the redhead was sneaky or anything, for all that her expression now was pious. "Honestly, dear, whatever would have given you that impression?" She reached over to pat Marie's hand, all maternal and fond in spite of the wickedness glimmering behind the benevolence in her eyes. "I told you, I just want to be friends. And friends chat."

Now this was information, though, that Natasha had not been aware of. For all that she displayed no sign that this was new to her, she mentally corrected her records for this woman. Previously, she'd believed that she needed to have the person there in front of her for her power to work. The notion of signatures, or personal items working though...

That Natasha could work with.

The drivel about protecting her friends, blah blah blah, made Natasha want to roll her eyes. This was why personal connections, investing in anyone other than yourself, was such a foolish idea. If she'd been truly intent on getting information on one of these so-called 'off limits' people of Marie's, the woman being stubborn would have only resulted in her being treated to Natasha's very personal form of ruthless persuasion. No, it was better to have no people that could be used against you in any way.

Luckily, though, Natasha had just had new plans dumped pleasantly into her lap and she smiled that wintery smile of hers again. "A friend of yours is a friend of mine," she said graciously. "Consider themselves safe from my interests. But are we agreed then, that if I procure these items that you can use, you would then be...compliant in looking for the information I seek?"

It sounded like a question, tasted like a threat and was just an every day weapon in Natasha's arsenal.

[Tarot]

((OOC: So sorry about leaving this one so long, Lell!!!))

Well, it seemed the two of them were operating on the same page still, despite Marie's rather huge concerns about exactly who this woman was and exactly what she wanted with her. She was perfectly aware that Natasha was quite likely one of the most dangerous people who had ever stepped through this door, and for her part, Marie wasn't entirely certain that the scenario she had devised in her mind - using Thanatos to bring the store down on her - might not work, and as such, she was forced to endure this. Again, she doubted that Natasha had anything truly awful in mind - she could have killed Marie the instant she stepped in here, if she was as dangerous as Marie assumed - so there had to be something the Russian wanted of her, and.. Well, if Marie could oblige, then she would. She wasn't entirely stupid, and this could, she supposed, be financially beneficial to her; Naturally, she didn't want to appear greedy, but Natasha surely knew that bills needed to be paid - even for a shitheap such as this.

"Tempting, but who knows what you might put in my cider?" Marie pondered, "You do, after all, seem like a veritable Modesty Blaise," she ventured, not expecting Natasha to reveal anything at that statement or for her to even get the reference, but from the vague pieces she had before her, Natasha seemed to fit the mold of the fictional woman, somehow. "I disagree. Proper planning and intelligence allows you to act correctly. Better to spend a little time gathering information rather than blundering into something, no?" she questioned, and even she, a person whose sole knowledge of spying and stealth and infiltration came from the Metal Gear games - laughable as they were - knew that. Information was vital. Information was necessary. And Natasha had surely come here for information. Granted, this was a different circumstance, but the example still stood. She didn't think she could be 'friends' with a woman like this without expecting a knife in her back at some point. She wasn't, of course, so stupid and pig-headed that she didn't catch the incredibly obvious threat behind what Natasha told her next; It was all in the tone. "When you put it like that, it's not like I can say no, now, is it?" she replied in a tone that was really rather sweet, contrasting the choice of words.

Naturally, she didn't much want Natasha enacting the manner in which Marie supposed she treated her enemies on her. Definitely not.

Of course, she also knew this woman was still very, very dangerous, but if Marie could comply with whatever Natasha wanted without compromising herself (any more than she already had been compromised) or the people she cared for, then she was happy to do so, since it kept her.. Well, not broken into small pieces or dumped with cement shoes into the bottom of the Hudson River. And then Natasha decided to 'reassure' her, tapping her hand in a manner vaguely reminiscent of Marie's own grandmother; The notion of that alone - similarities between the two vastly different women - sent a shiver up Marie's spine, but it wasn't the only thing doing so, since she had just gotten the tiniest taste of Natasha's life.

And, as the redhead had insisted, it was not pleasant. Marie didn't even see that much, but she wanted to shut it out. She certainly didn't want to perform a reading with the woman, no matter how much knowledge that might give her and no matter how much slight power she achieved in knowing about Natasha. That was how bad she felt the woman's life had been, and for it to be worse than Charles - although he had bad patches, she supposed - was saying something. And so, to avoid what she had seen, she did as Natasha suggested.

She chatted. There might've been a distinct tone of uneasiness to the proceedings, based on what she had just seen, but she explained one of the key stipulations of her abilities to the other woman, supposing it may help; She could tell Natasha didn't quite believe in what she was saying about protecting people close to her, but vaguely understood why. Marie had, she supposed, given herself a little too much in terms of weight to carry around when it came to people she cared for; Before, it had been just her grandmother. Now she had a handful of people she liked, maybe loved. Fucking New York, she cursed in her mind, but she looked thoughtful when Natasha declared Marie's friends were hers, and safe from her interests, wondering how much of that was true, how much of it was a lie and something to be exploited if Marie didn't prove to have the results Natasha desired. "Just one final question --" she ventured carefully, knowing that this was definitely stepping out onto thin ice, "If I.. Perform these readings for you.. Tell you what these people you are interested in are worth, what they will do to affect the future, what's in it for me? Do I just have the satisfaction of you not breaking every bone in my body or hurting someone I care for, or is there.. Well.." she trailed off, rubbing her thumb against her index and forefingers like a bellboy expecting a tip.

"You have to understand I don't plan on staying in this shit-heap forever."

[Black Widow]

((ooc: Ugh, this somehow got left off my list. SO sorry, hun.))

The reference sailed far over Natasha's head, outside of her own realms of interest, and that didn't faze her in the slightest. Tone and the general path of the conversation so far leant itself to extrapolating the meaning of what was likely meant to be a barb, a judgement, and Natasha merely smiled benignly in response.

People could believe what they wanted. Marie could believe what she wanted. So long as nothing ran counter to what Natasha herself wanted out of the world then she was content to leave it be. That was the difference between cruel and simply ruthlessly practical - stay out of the Widow's way and she would leave you alone and unharmed, it was as empirical as that. Very rarely did she do things 'just for fun'.

And since there was no reason to argue with Marie about trivialities, differences in opinion, Natasha did not. It was easy for her to simply smile - enigmatically, obtusely - and let that alone be an answer, one that Marie could make what she wished out of.

(Being baffling was, of course, practically a genetic prerogative for Natasha. If she were a mutant, that would have been her power.)

"You could say no," Natasha said lightly. Her lashes brushed her cheektops. "I wouldn't advise it, but it is an option that you have." After all, it was only fair to make it clear that this was a choice. An easy one, perhaps, but still a choice.

And, finally, there it was, the concession that made something in Natasha curl up and den down like a smugly contented cat before a roaring fire. It was one thing to completely cow someone into making the choice you wanted them to. But intimidation got you only so far. When the other person ventured to try and make something out of the situation, to haggle and bargain and invest...

Well, then it stopped being blackmail and threats, didn't it, and became a bargain instead. Business. And that was far, far easier for the average person to stomach. So when Natasha chuckled, low and wicked, it was because this was a deal that could be struck and easily so.

"You keep your bones intact," she said in a voice that counted as cheerful for her as she made a graceful, mocking little gesture with her left hand, "and, if your information is sound and useful, then there shall be compensation, of course." Her eyes were wide and seemingly artless. "Are we in agreement then, Miss Colbert?"