@nomcrelies
Beneath a shoulder length dirty blonde wig, hazel contacts, and some lipstick in an inoffensive but truly unflattering pink that made the undertones of her skin sallow, Natasha Romanoff wore a lazy uni student outfit and carried a flawless ID listing her as one Laura Matthers. A perfect disguise, a perfect lie, her true self obfuscated beneath layers of perfect fabrication. If she had a true self at all. If she wasn’t just all infinitely nested matryoshka dolls of constructed identities. Either way- if she wanted to be in public without being recognized, this was the precaution.
The businesswoman she was set to tail, interrogate, and eventually kill was across the cafe from her, and Nat casually typed at a word doc, a worn copy of War and Peace page down on the table next to her. The technology of this day was fascinating; she’d expected laptops would one day get smaller than the massive briefcase contraptions she knew, but even so there was still the issue of battery life. She turned to a woman with pink hair nearer to the wall than her and feigned a chagrined smile. “Hey, ah, I’m gonna need to get at the outlet in a minute if that’s not too much of a problem?”