[ It's noted, the faltering, and coupled with the meaningful manner in which he first gazed upon her, ever more questions burn worse than the absence of James in her space. She acknowledges that they need to move, though, that's obvious, so Natalia doesn't fault him nor fret over the partial distance. There's time for more later. The mission Information first. Assessment and a plain, and Natalia can't be more relieved to know he'll be the one providing it, that James will be with her...even if simultaneously feels like paper cuts on the webbing between one's fingers knowing that if this the true Hell. he's landed a place. Not that either of them haven't damned well earned one a thousand times over. Hurts just the same. Let her be here. Let the others not.

The segue is a perfect opener for the redhead to remark - ] < Talk, yes, and explain why you've chosen to start cosplaying someone who feeds birds in Saint Mark's Square. >

[ The tenderness is palpable as she's delivering the teasing, cobalt orbs falling over James's face (flicking once to that flower). With just as tender of a tug on the beard, Nat swaps over to English, saying - ] Mmm, maybe more like someone in Central Park. Someone who's trained rats to perform alongside the Man With the Silver Arm.