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Hunter lets out a deep sigh, glancing around the table.
Natasha chews quietly as she looks around as well. Clint has dropped his legs on her chair, bringing the kebab to his mouth. Next to him sits Bruce, now turned back and wearing some old clothes that look like the ones you would find in the lost-and-found boxes. Tony sits beside him, staring at the wall in front of him as he slowly chews on his food. Next is Hunter, who leans back in his chair as he glances at the other team members. At the other side of Hunter sits Thor. The god moves the most of all Avengers while eating his shawarma roll, seeming to enjoy it the most out of everyone. And last but not least, Steve. Hunter can't see his face clearly, but judging by the Captain's position, he wouldn't be surprised if the man has nodded off.
It has only been about an hour since they handed Loki over to S.H.I.E.L.D. so they could get ready. Tony, however, only gave Bruce the opportunity to get changed before dragging them all to the Shawarma Place he was talking about earlier. So here they were, all but Bruce and Tony, still dressed in their suits.
Tony's eyes burn into Hunter his shoulder and he sends the billionaire a questioning look.
"You sure you don't want anything?" Tony asks again, "the food is on me."
"I am not sure if I'll be able to keep anything down right now," Hunter tells.
"Right, we don't wanna make a mess."
We already did, Hunter thinks, but he decides to keep his mouth shut. He grabs the soda can in front of him and as he takes a sip, he lets his mind wander off for a moment. He isn't thinking about anything or anyone in particular, but even with his mind blank, he can still faintly notice the bubbly laugh that booms through his head. His sudden rise draws the attention of all his teammates, but no one seems to have the energy to either follow the man or ask about the disruption.
"Do you have a phone I can use?" Hunter asks one of the employees. The brown-haired lady with the broom points to the wall on his right as she keeps sweeping firmly.
"If it works, sure." He thanks the woman with a nod before turning to the wall. The rotary dial phone is covered with a small layer of dust and most of its numbers are almost completely faded away.
After dialing what is supposed to be his mother's number, he moves the receiver to his ear and hopes for the best, but the other end of the telephone's line is staying awfully quiet.
"Come on," he mumbles to himself as he leans back against the damaged wall. Mentally crossing his fingers, he waits and waits for a sign of life, but without luck. He needs to keep himself from smashing the receiver back on its place, which he manages pretty well. He then turns back around, making his way towards the door.
"Hey!" Tony calls after him, "where are you going?"
"To get some air," he announces, before closing the door behind him. A wave of air hits him in the face, immediately feeling colder to his face that felt like it was on fire. Breathing out deeply, the man slides to the ground with his back pressed against the cold and fractured wall.
Back inside the Shawarma shop, Natasha pulls back her legs from Clint's chair. As she stands up, all eyes turn to her.
"You're leaving too?" Tony questions, raising his eyebrow at the former Russian Spy.
"I'm just gonna check upon him." Pushing the chair back forward with her legs, she snatches her bottle of water from the table and walks towards the front door. Despite trying to open and close the door without startling the absent Hunter Black, due to its damages the door can't help but squeak at every little movement. Strangely enough, he doesn't make a sound, and Natasha leans quietly against the door frame, unable to tell if she should say something or not.
"You're just gonna stand there quietly?" Hunter asks without facing the red-headed woman.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she requests
"What is there to talk about?"
"Oh, I don't know," she shrugs, "maybe the fact that you were getting so frustrated you almost broke the phone?"
"I will be fine," he answers shortly.
"Is this about your wife?"
Hunter shortly freezes at her words before shaking the feeling off and ignoring the woman's question. "I will be fine once we are back at the Helicarrier and I can use their landline."
"Girlfriend?" Natasha now demands. Hunter can feel the frustration bubbling up inside of him, but he tries his best to ignore both that and her questions. Natasha frowns as she observes the man, who clearly ignores her. "You gotta talk about it eventually," she tells.
"She's dead, alright?!" he answers, his voice rising rapidly. He turns his head to her in a swift move, his face flustered and his jaw clenched.
Natasha blinks. "What?"
"I am a widower," he says harshly before turning his head away from her. He lets out a short chuckle. "I can't believe you managed to get that out of me."
"I have skills," she replies to his comment, shortly and without a smile. She waits a few moments before adding: "I am sorry for your loss."
"This is why I never told anyone," he clarifies, "I don't need or want pity. It is hard enough already to take care of a four-year-old that looks exactly like her." He sighs and Natasha sits down next to him on the Shawarma Places steps.
"You may feel hopeless at times," she begins, "but that doesn't make you a bad father. I am sure you are a great dad, whether you were a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent or not, and your child is lucky to have you as its dad."
"I'm trying my best."
"And that's more than enough," Natasha assures him.
Hunter smiles. "You really have skills."
"What can I say?" Natasha smiles back, leaning her elbows on her knees, "I am one of the best."
