undergrounds | Backdated to 22 November

Natasha's never much been the sort to celebrate her birthdays. Wasn't even when she was alive and aging. Call it the result of not having anyone to celebrate with. Family had all died when she was young, and growing up in thin times, in and out of orphanages and boarding schools, there weren't many people interested in splurging to buy her presents or take her out to dinner. She could count the number of birthday parties she's had in her whole like—seventy-eight years today—on one hand and still have fingers leftover.

She's not sure why she's thinking of it at all this year. Maybe just because there's been so many changes. New city. New allegiances. New friends, maybe. New life, maybe.

Maybe she just didn't actually expect to live to see this one after she fled Russia.

Whatever it is, Natasha goes out drinking tonight with purpose, making the rounds and her regular bars and drinking a toast at each of them. Sometimes she drinks them to herself. Sometimes she drinks them to the people who didn't make it this far. If, along the way, she runs into anyone she knows? In the event that happens, they might find themselves with a bottle of beer or a glass of whiskey being set in front of them, a silent invitation to join her for this round.

If she doesn't, then she has her drink alone and moves on.

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"What's the occasion?" Evie slides up to her friend easily, letting her know she's there by casually running a hand over her back, perhaps a bit closer to her lower back than she should.

She holds up a hand towards the bartender, and orders two whiskeys. She's buying, right now.

Of course, she knows what the occasion is. She's done her research. It's a birthday, and she has a small gift in her pocket for her friend. She was awful with gifts, but she hoped it was something that would be appreciated.

"Let's say surviving the year," Natasha answers, welcoming the touch. She's in a strange mood, but maybe has good reason for it. It's hard to say for sure. At least she's earned both her hope and her melancholy.

"Would you drink that that with me?"

Evie nods in appreciation. She can accept that.

"Of course- why do you think I ordered it?" The bartender sets the drinks down, and she gestures for Natasha to pick one up.

"I'd hate to assume." Evie's answer does raise questions, though. Natasha's birthday isn't widely known, but if there was someone who might have turned over that information in her investigation, the other assassin wouuld be high on the list. "Maybe you were just planning to start the night by drinking heavily?"

Evie laughs, her nose wrinkling and her freckles visible in the low light. "Maybe. No, one of them is for you. To congratulate you surviving the year."

She won't go so far as to say happy birthday if Natasha doesn't want her to. They were assassins. They could have entire conversations without saying anything directly.

Arthur sees Nat the minute she walks in the door of the bar he's currently posted up at, ever observant and alerted to the presence of attractive women that he already knows. He waits until she sits down on the bar before he excuses himself from his friends and joins her there.

She seems like she's already been drinking, which means this is just the next stop, and he can relate to that. He doesn't know that this her birthday but he did exactly the same thing.

"Having a good night?"

The freckles are endearing, and somehow pleasantly surprising on a vampire. Natasha notices them. "I do feel like congratulations are deserved this yeah." Natasha takes one of the glasses, bringing it closer. "Celebrate too, maybe?"

His question wins him a smile, not unmixed but welcoming. "Could be a lot worse." She tips her head in invitation. "Join me for a round? I could use the company. No one likes drinking alone."

Evie always worried they made her look like someone you wanted to take less-seriously.

"If you insist," she accuses, with a nod of her head. She holds up the glass for a cheers.

"I have something for you."

"For me? You didn't need to do that." Natasha huffs, not quite sighing. Her lips twitch. Perhaps it's because this is far from the first glass of whiskey Natasha has had tonight, or perhaps it's another kind of warmth that touches her at the realization that her friend cares enough to give her a gift, but there's a little softness in the expression. "Also, if you wanted to know when my birthday was, you could have asked."

"Of course," he says, slipping onto the barstool next to her. He still has a bit left in his current bottle of beer but he'll polish that off quickly.

"Are we drinking to something in particular?" he asks, wondering for a moment if she's celebrating the change in Islington leadership. He knows she's not aligned with them, but Harris certainly wasn't doing any vampires any favours for a long time.

"The fact I've managed not to die yet." Her lips twitch; she's not unaware of the irony of her answer. "Not and have it stick, anyway."

She motions to the bartender, getting his attention and a nod, a gesture indicating he'll be just a moment. Good enough. Natasha's not in a rush.

"I'm not taking you away from your friends, am I?"

She shakes her head. "Least I could do."

She drinks, and laughs, before holding out a rather small square box, pulled out from her jacket.

"I wouldn't open it here." Inside, Natasha will find two small chakrams, a fine silk cloth wrapped around part of the blade. One of Evie's favorite weapons, aside from her kukuri. She's not really good at what you give people you care about other than give them weapons. So forgive her.

"Oh, no," Arthur replies, glancing back in the direction of the group he left. A small group of hunters he met while he was trying to track down the best supplier for wooden bullets in the city. They're not close, they just happen to congregate and share trade secrets every once in a while. "They're more like colleagues anyway. I was thinking of leaving soon."

"Well, if you don't have any other plans..." The bartender joins them then, and Natasha asks for two whiskeys—raising an eyebrow in case Arthur would rather have another beer. She's not averse to getting him something else if he'd rather.

"I'll save it for when I get home then." She smiles softly, looking over the box with some affection. The fact that Evie got her anything at all is surprising, warming even. It's been a rare occurrence in her life.

"You can watch, if you want to come back with me."

"I'd love to. I think I may owe you an explanation." She nods towards the gift.

"Oh?" Her brows rise at that, teasing. "Should I be worried?"

"Perhaps," she says, giving her a roguish wink. Just a nice gift from one assassin to another.

Natasha sets the the box down on the bar, beside her glass, and rests her fingertips on the rim. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I didn't realize you were a gifter, though."

"I believe in showing people that you care about them, on occasion." Life was, generally speaking, too short not to.

"Besides, I'm hoping I'll get something out of it, too, I will admit."

"Is that so?" Natasha perks, her tone teasing. "Well, between the gift and the drink, I'd say you're about a meal shy of getting me to put out. Or another drink."

Evie ducks her head, laughing. At least, she thinks she's laughing- regardless, she's blushing but hopefully no one can see it in the low light of the bar. That would be embarrassing.

"Well I was going to offer to buy the next round regardless." She takes a drink of her whiskey. Yeah, okay, she needed that.

"Well in that case," Natasha says, humor still warm in her voice as she raises her glass again. She doesn't blush, but Natasha's fairly unflappable in that respect.

"What did you have in mind?"

She gestures towards her with her left hand, her right still holding the glass.

"Whatever you wanted. It is your birthday, after all."

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Backdated to 22 November

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