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“Okay Kate Bishop, I know, if you’re going to show me New York attractions, I need to give you host gift.”
Kate is still not sure in which part of the conversation she’d actually agreed to do any such thing. “You don’t need to give me anything, because I’m not showing you around.”
Yelena ignores this. “I thought, first, I will bring you the body of dead enemy, yes? Classic gift! But maybe it will seem like I don’t respect you enough to get rid of your own. Not a good start for joint sightseeing tour. Also”—Yelena gestures vaguely, rings shining—“dead people are heavy. And you have to pretend to be drunk when carrying until out of sight, very annoying. Time consuming for a business trip.”
She props a fist on her hip and stares Kate down. “And maybe you are namby-pamby hero that does not do killing, yes? And then I will have to go to Rockefeller with no one, like loser. I am not a loser, Kate Bishop.”
Kate nods blankly. Does Yelena even need her here for this? Maybe she can go to bed and pretend she hallucinated this interaction… except that means leaving an assassin with free rein to critique her loft and eat her food, apparently.
“Hell-o, pay attention?” Yelena waves at Kate energetically. “I said, we are going shopping. American chick-flick reference, be impressed. And when you have more than one fork, you will thank me, Kate Bishop. I am doing you big favour.”
At that, Kate splutters back to life. “You’re doing me a favour? I don’t think so!”
She steps forward and manages to somehow swipe the fork off Yelena, holding it tightly as she puts the dining table between them.
Where’s Clint with a distraction when she needs one?