Natasha takes a moment to admire their handiwork once all their purchases are meticulously crammed into the storage compartment. It's weirdly just as satisfying as a successful stakeout. She takes the helmet from him with a smile, pulling it onto her head as she answers him. "Oh, not just French women."

After securing the helmet strap, she climbs on the bike after him. Her chin leans on his shoulder as she listens to his question, and she chuckles when he takes off before she can answer. Her arms give his mid-section an affectionate squeeze.

She lets him navigate and enjoys the view from the back of the bike. The smell of salt is in the air, so she knows the ocean is nearby, but she can't see it. Maybe she'll map out a coastal route so they can drive it later and watch the sunset. When they arrive back at the apartment, she runs her hands up his sides before climbing off the bike.

"For the record," she says as she opens the storage to start undoing their hard work by handing him bags, "I'll dance for you any day."