"What do you think makes fish take the bait?"
"Hunger? Arrogance? I don't know."
Natasha still stared intently at the fishing line that had vanished beneath the water, as though she could spot a fish through that hole. Schiller's line drifted not far from him. The bait did not seem heavy, and for ice fishing, it was even a little too light. Even the gentle midday breeze could make the line ripple across the water.
"Generally speaking, I wouldn't call a mutually consensual night of pleasure immoral," Natasha ventured. "Maybe to some people it only symbolizes promiscuity, but clearly, I'm not one of them."
"But I think it's necessary to obtain the other person's 'full' consent before starting something like that."
"Did you tell every one-night stand that you were the Black Widow?"
Natasha practically roared in agony. Leaning forward, she said to the ice, "They didn't need to know! What good would that have done for what came next between us?!"
"So you didn't tell them about the danger you posed, either."
"That's because I wouldn't..."
"Wouldn't you, really?"
Natasha fell silent. After a long while, she spoke as if trying to salvage the situation. "Most of the time, I wouldn't. My encounters with those boys were usually only about romance. If they kept things within that boundary, then they wouldn't be in danger."
"But some people wanted more."
"Men usually want more." Natasha sighed deeply, as though something had come back to her. "After they believed they had conquered my body, they began exploring the possibility of capturing my mind as well."
"It was a little impolite, but I understood. After all, I was the one who gave them the illusion that such a thing was possible. It was meant to make them overlook my aggression. Otherwise, they'd