Finished Am I a hypocrite?

"As I do recall, I said, "some people" and not "everyone," Natasha remarked coolly, her tone defensive when Pietro made a point of reminding her of the huge disaster that had been their very first meeting.

"And I did not mean to offend you," she told him, immobile. "It's certainly not my fault that you prefer to act behind the scenes and any investigation I did surrounding island policies your name rarely came up," she continued rather indignantly, now watching Pietro like a hawk as he circled and locked eyes with her.

Natasha was now guarded, her whole body alert. She instinctively knew that Pietro was, despite his charming smile, most likely pissed off with her and an angry vampire was not something she wanted to contend with this evening. Especially since she prided herself on knowing men well, and she was sure Pietro was not one who forgave and forgot easily.

"I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Popov," Natasha stated very stiffly, her cheeks a very pale pink, as she deliberately pretended to not to understand what he was hinting at even though it was quite clear what he meant.

"My place is where I chose it to be," she retorted quietly as she defiantly held Pietro's gaze, noticing that he was standing way too close to her than what she would consider friendly or comfortable.

"I am not afraid of you, Mr Popov," Natasha said, her eyes flashing with defiant anger, annoyed that he would presume that she was.

"And I am here not because I think as highly of yourself as you obviously do..." she replied haughtily. Pietro's attitude and the way he could read her, obviously flustering her more than she wanted to admit.

"I came because I was curious," she admitted as she tried to take a step backward. She desperately needed some distance between them; Pietro's closeness was affecting her more than she'd like to admit.

"Nothing more than that," she lied. Natasha had come because yes, she was curious but also, she had intended to congratulate the ex-minister on his endeavor, wish him luck, and try to mend fences.

"Dammit, Pietro," Natasha swore in Russian, frustrated as she took another step, this time to the side as she tried to keep some distance between them. "You are infuriating, and so bloody full of yourself," she told him, her hackles up.

"I was curious about the club, not about you or anything else you think I should be curious about," she told him quite pointedly as she coolly and angrily raked her gaze over him dismissively.

Natasha just shot Pietro an exasperated and rather baleful look. She was just now realising that the bastard was enjoying himself thoroughly by deliberately taunting and toying with her. Making it seem like she misunderstood any lewd or loaded comment that he threw her way.

"I am very aware that you had to scrub the cathedral and remove any religious iconography association with it," she stated. "The MCSS is in an old 16th-century church remember?" she pointed out as she glanced up at the ceiling.

"Although just getting the place unconsecrated would have allowed you to keep the frescoes and the stained glass," she stated as she quickly snatched a glass of blood from a passing waiter and took a much needed sip. Lord, she really needed a drink, the wine was not cutting it. Not if she had to deal with Pietro, the very grown up L'Enfant terrible, any longer tonight.

Natasha, who had, funnily enough, grown up in a time of religious tolerance, just shrugged indifferently. She had no real feelings on the subject. Catherine's court had seemed almost devoid of piousness compared to Europe. Her empress had been more of a woman of the sciences and great learning than bowing to priests.

"The Catholics did have style, but I don't see why angels and cherubs looking down upon you should be a problem in a "den of sin"... unless of course, you are the devil yourself, Mr. Popov," Natasha quipped, her tone mirthful as she looked at Pietro innocently.