closed to Natasha [inthered]

[vantagepoint]

[Sulking and keeping his back to Nat. Stranded on an inflatable boat, in the middle of the ocean.]

Comments

[stillfriends]

Just curious. [They're not likely to be any help from above and they're useless in the water, but there's something comforting in the fact that if there are eight shots Clint can take he will take them.

She stands up slowly in the raft, balancing herself. She nods to the wreckage below them.] From down there.

[She looks over her shoulder at Clint.] I just have to make sure they're the more obvious choice for dinner than us.

[vantagepoint]

[The idea isn't entirely impossible, but it's a high risk with low chance of success. Clint frowns.] I think the sun has gotten to your head, Nat.

[Options at this point seem to be limited to clinging to her legs like a petulant child being abandoned at daycare. He's tempted to do that, but before he makes a move he holds a hand up to signal for stillness.]

...is there a chance that some kind of distress signal is broadcasting?

[As to who would get to them first, SHIELD or Hydra, that was anyone's guess.] Because, don't quote me on this, I think we're being stalked by submarine.

[stillfriends]

The heat's gotten to my head?

[But the possibility isn't unheard of. It's not likely that it's a SHEILD signal considering the classification of the mission and the fact that their plan B is somewhere in the cargo hold of the sunken plane. A casualty of the fight and subsequent crash.

She stills and listens though, her eyes scanning the water around them and there in the distance she sees the slight ripple on the surface that is much too big to be caused by a shark.

She kneels and retrieves her clothes, her fingers finding the hidden knife in the lining.] You're right. We've got company.