Natasha is cooperative as they put her through the exam, the almost routine nature of her behavior indicating someone who's been through similar exams in no small number. The most troubling part of the tests for her is honestly the fact that her reflexes feel slower and that her senses don't feel as sharp, like they've somehow been muffled. She's not sure if it's the fault of however she arrived here, or something having to do with this planet, but she affects a mask of pleasant gratitude through her interactions with the staff.
There is of course the potential for the medical exams to be a forerunner for things more nefarious in nature, but so far everything they've done has been routine and largely non-invasive, so she doesn't see the reason to protest. Yet.
Instead, she's gathering information, watching how the medtechs interact with each other, and especially the woman without the facepaint. She almost reminds her of Melinda May, except taken to some sort of superlative perfection. But the right angle, the line of her cheekbones makes her think of the SHIELD agent she'd been friends with back when things still made sense.
She watches Diya, but not hawkishly; a quiet observation, not focused enough to make Natasha's scrutiny overly obvious, but still there for those sharp enough to catch it. And then the woman is addressing the redhead, and the questions start. Normally, Natasha lies through her teeth with a practiced normalcy and answers that make sense to the rules of peoples' worldview.
But she's out of her depth, and she hates not knowing the right answers. How much can their equipment pick up, what is their normal? It's a gamble on whether or not lies or truth will better serve her. She hates playing blind, but the low level agitation she's feeling doesn't touch her blue eyes or the pleasant smile. "Seventy-six," she answers the question about her age, watching. Easy enough to change tacks and clarify it's the year she was born -- not that she assumes similar calendars based on what pieces she's picked up so far.
A!
There is of course the potential for the medical exams to be a forerunner for things more nefarious in nature, but so far everything they've done has been routine and largely non-invasive, so she doesn't see the reason to protest. Yet.
Instead, she's gathering information, watching how the medtechs interact with each other, and especially the woman without the facepaint. She almost reminds her of Melinda May, except taken to some sort of superlative perfection. But the right angle, the line of her cheekbones makes her think of the SHIELD agent she'd been friends with back when things still made sense.
She watches Diya, but not hawkishly; a quiet observation, not focused enough to make Natasha's scrutiny overly obvious, but still there for those sharp enough to catch it. And then the woman is addressing the redhead, and the questions start. Normally, Natasha lies through her teeth with a practiced normalcy and answers that make sense to the rules of peoples' worldview.
But she's out of her depth, and she hates not knowing the right answers. How much can their equipment pick up, what is their normal? It's a gamble on whether or not lies or truth will better serve her. She hates playing blind, but the low level agitation she's feeling doesn't touch her blue eyes or the pleasant smile. "Seventy-six," she answers the question about her age, watching. Easy enough to change tacks and clarify it's the year she was born -- not that she assumes similar calendars based on what pieces she's picked up so far.