"Bruce, huh?" Natasha considers it for a moment. It's not something she's really entertained before, but then again, no one else ever really stood a chance with her in her world. Not when there was a soldier that couldn't forget her no matter how many times the world tried to make him. The only other person that truly understood what it felt like to be a weapon in the shape of a person.

Her hand moves away easily when he pulls back, palm up as she moves her arms in careful arcs until they're folded. It's a fairly obvious gesture of contrition, a promise she won't touch him again. Maybe it's a little protective as well. A physical wall she can use to stack the bricks of her composure on.

The wall is still shot through with cracks. There's a moment of silence after his question, and she weighs the balance of truth against lie as she watches him. Her expression is mostly neutral, but her eyes are sad. Finally, she settles on, "when the other you died on Vormir, I was the one with him. He jumped to save me." Her mouth pulls to the side a little, like she's trying to make her face do what she wants it to. Something that's usually effortless. But the well of emotion in this confession is too deep. It has its own gravitational pull. Turns out she can't even escape it in another universe.