"Still . . ." He drifted over to watch her work, wincing again when she brought the possibility of them hurting each other. Steve laid a hand on her shoulder, squeezing a little.

"It won't work Natasha. It didn't last time. I can't break it down, I can't get through the walls, the locks can't be picked. If we don't start carving, we'll get cut anyway by . . . something. Both of us. I can't let you get hurt, and I refuse to give you even the smallest scar. If anyone gets cut, it's gonna be me."