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You knew? You felt that tug on your soul as well, alerting you of my presence?

[ Naked lips curl into a small cheeky grin as she sidles up to him with a wink. The flirting, the continued teasing, they're behaviors easily slipped into like her masks and plethoras of personas. Only, with James, Natalia's actions and feelings and remarks are genuine. You will never know someone 100% (without telepathy), but he'll be the only one who will get as close as possible. Clint surely comes in at second, however, he can't properly comprehend what the Red Room was like, what it did. What it still does.

[ With an air of serious contemplation, complete with pointer finger tapping against mouth, Tash quips - ] Depends upon what I get out of it.

[ Which is to say obviously she'll do it. Of course. It'll be a task to concentrate on while James gives her intel on their new living situation. ]

[He laughs at her question, mirth tugged from him unexpected and helpless as he shakes his head at her cheek. He's missed this; the flirting, the teasing, the sense of something playful that he hadn't had back home for a while. Not since before Steve.]

Well-- more like I thought I heard a little voice calling me an idiot, and knew you couldn't be too far behind.

[He grins, and there's a light to it. Something in how he looks at her, the way that he holds himself. Being around her might be difficult on the one hand, but on the other, it's also always been so easy. That way that he teases, a reminder of the days back when he'd been Captain America, when there'd been a label to the things between them, instead of this murky almost and maybe like it was now.]

What, you askin' for a bribe, Natasha?

[There's something about the sound of her name on his mouth, something that feels like trespassing, and he flushes a little, just at the apples of his cheeks, a shake of his head. He retreats to put a little more space between them, but he's still focused on her as they walk down the hallway.]

I'll tell you what I know. Which isn't much but- lay of the land, right? Ask nice and maybe I'll cook you somethin'.

[As if he wouldn't anyway.]

[ With a hum and an eyeroll, Nat bumps her hip into his, but any irritation is simply for show. There hadn't been time to miss him before and even now a lot is happening in this whirlwind arrival, yet their interactions are swiftly shoving things to the surface and they're not unwelcome. James is home.

[ Little slips past unnoticed where assassins and spies are concerned, less where James is in regards to Natalia. However, it would be unlikely that even the average person would have missed him literally taking the lead ahead of her; she waits to comment, though, instead addressing their pseudo-bargain. ]

Where's the fun in that when you already have to tell me what you know? That's just a given.

[ Which is a decent segue into the elephant boneyard.

Tasha ghosts fingers along the back of his hand and looks on James kindly. ]

< Except for the Thing. > [ The Thing that's cause for eggshell dances. ] < Tell me on your own time or not at all. Da? >

[There's a huff of vague amusement as she puts down his offer, though admittedly he'd known it was too easy. Because she's right; they both knew that he would tell her regardless. He's musing on what to offer instead, when she closes the distance, her fingers a whisper against his hand and--

That whisper of Russian shivers down his spine as she's softer than he deserves, more understanding. Gives him space and time, permission to tell her as he can, as he wants to. And there are so many pieces to the story, but he sighs, shrugs his shoulders a little.

There are the pieces that have always been there, too. The ones where he's no good for her, but too selfish to step away. He voices a quiet agreement, but figures he'll give her at least some of it as they talk.]

How about a date? [He says it before he can think better of it; talk about selfish.] Place is a bit lacking when it comes to upscale restaurants, but I can cook somethin' -- no pancakes, I promise. And there is a dance club sister to the sex club, sort of the PG-13 stage. Makes for a decent night out without the demonic affections.

[ Natalia isn't one to gush or giggle easily. Blushing naturally is mostly triggered by her Web People. But James utters those words and it sets off physical reactions that are warm and pleasant and intimate. The corners of her mouth creep upwards into a smile that is nothing short of pure adoration. ] You could take me to the roof and it would still be perfect. [ Hand is extended to shake on it. ] A date it is, Barnes.

[ The necklace James gifted her feels like it's taken on more weight, which is impossible, and yet it lays heavier against her skin like it is reacting to their energy, their connection. ]

Think you can still keep up with me in the club? [ Nat feeds that charge with a challenging look, cobalt blues dancing with impishness. ]

[He hesitates a moment, because it feels like a misstep, like he's offered something too heavy. Something in the way that she says he could take her to the roof and it would be perfect. It feels like she's from years behind him, like she doesn't know the things that he does wrong. So offering a date feels unfair- but then maybe he's just a coward these days. Or maybe it's just the look that curves her lips, the warmth and like there's something in him to adore.

He doesn't know if the fact that he does take her hand in the end makes it worse or not. But when has he ever been able to refuse her? Even if for him everything feels like broken pieces that don't quite fit together anymore.]

I don't think anyone's ever been able to keep up with you.

[Shies from the challenge there, not quite a flinch, but while he's always carried as much weight on his shoulders as he could find, it's still somehow worse these days. But maybe getting rid of the grief beard will help, at least. He leads her through the suite to his room, which is clean to military standards, nothing personal aside from the incongruous sniper rifle in the corner.]

[ At the sight of the weapon, memories of missions and rescues and well-meaning watchfulness play out in the Russian's mind, most gladly but a few with a bitter aftertaste. And makes her ask - ] The duffel bag; what was in yours, if I may ask?

[ Natalia looks from the gun to the owner, hovering in the center of James's room and committing the layout to memory. Ritual drives the categorizing of every possible thing that can be used as a means to cause harm (not against James, but in defense of him, should anyone be fool enough to carry out an attack), but she's also learning his space. The space he took up without her while being trapped here.

[ She hates knowing that. ]

My old leather jacket, a necklace- [His voice catches there and he shrugs it off, exhaling a little bit shakily. He's wearing it now, under his shirt. He could show her, but then there would be things he doesn't know how to talk about. So instead he just shrugs it off.]

A few weapons; including the sniper rifle.

[A rose from her. But he leaves that out, even if it's the part that he should tell her most of all. But it doesn't feel like he deserves that. She cares for him, maybe even still loves him. And things are complicated for him. There's loss and hurt and he can't even bring himself to tell her about Dodger, even if he half feels like he needs to-- god knows that two eyes isn't enough to keep an eye on him.

And Dodger needs people looking out for him. Needs people that understand what it is to have been something dark and been able to walk away from it. Bucky's not as good of an example of that as he wishes he was, but Natasha would be good for him he thinks, if Bucky wasn't so selfish.]

{ In which, Natalia shaves James's face and cleans up the ends of his hair. Because it's more important to learn the now, the present, she keeps the conversation on learning all things Hell. She keeps the knowledge of wearing his rose necklace to herself. For now.

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