redheav:

oldboyjensrps:

At the approaching footsteps, Messenger had been ready to turn and sigh in relief at her target’s approach. Instead, the blood drained from her face as she attempted to not look like she was mentally writing her own eulogy.

Of course Scout wasn’t there. Why would mister happy feet ever be somewhere convenient for her life and livelihood? Ridiculous concept, to expect any situation that didn’t have her in pretty serious mortal peril with a very irritated guy she’d taken pictures of sleeping next to his gun. Not uh, that he knew that part. Just… obviously he had a hunch she’d delivered them. Which she had.

Haha… oh boy.

“Oh ah, hi, uh sir hello. It, uh, boy nice weather huh? You look well.”

She instinctively checks the weight of the envelope pack in her hands, and for a moment curiosity overpowers fear. Like a pigeon trying to get a better look and listen, Messenger cocks her head to the side and turns it over in her hands. 

“Huh I don’t actually know… I mean, it could be? Thick packet this time… family must have lots to say..” she realizes her murmured blunder and immediately falls back into terrified awkward friendliness, “uh! Hypothetically! The letters could totally be from anyone, and I know nothing!”

The Russian folded his arms over his chest as he listened to the woman ramble. His expression remained stoic. He watches her movement, briefly relishing his ability to make people squirm. 

It was karma, in his opinion. For what she had done to him and his team. Finding out that his house was broken into–with no idea how he’d been found. It was a fear that hit much too close to home. Whether she was responsible or not, he was determined that it would not happen again.

A grunt escaped him as he nodded once at her response. For a moment longer he was still, until deciding that it was enough. She had learnt her lesson–by the looks of it.

“Alright.” He rumbled.

With one giant hand, Heavy holds out his palm to take the packet, still keeping his distance and eyeing the woman suspiciously. 

“I will give to him. He will return soon.” The giant cricked his neck, almost as if getting ready for a fight. “If this is something bad? You will regret it.”

“Now hold on a minute. I don’t hand off to go-betweens, sir.”

She had been pretty visibly shaking by the time he first replied with that single word, fighting it by doing a little nervous jig. Her sigh of relief was probably audible as well. Then, with her few surviving survival instincts, Messenger had flinched and hopped back a step as his hand extended. 

Then her brain had processed what he was requesting, and her eyes had narrowed. The neck crack and the ultimatum had an… interesting effect. Instead of cowing, Messenger’s stance went assertive, and she shoved the packet back into her bag as she spoke.

“The mail is for Scout, sir. I only deliver to recipient. Death threats or no.”

She crossed her arms and set her jaw to stare up at him. Her pulse still raced, and her eyes were probably fluctuating between fear and determination, but she locked eyes with Heavy all the same.If it was Heavy. If the man in front of her was a cloaked Spy, he better be ready to rip the bag from her cold, dead hands. 

Of course, her literal inability to cut an intimidating figure was part of why she had the job in the first place. How effective the purple and orange, baby faced, 5′4″, Messenger’s attempt to assert herself as a professional against, well, Heavy, remained to be seen.