"If I didn't want to be here, I would've kept going down the stairs when you turned off on this floor," Natasha points out mildly, the corner of her mouth ticking up into a little smile. She accepts the glass as he hands it over, watching him as he explains his question. He looks...not confused, exactly. Maybe lost. Or out of place. She wonders if she looks the same way to him.

It strikes her that she's never seen him quite like this before. It's a little bit like the times they'd erased her from his memory, but muted - stretched.

Belatedly realizing it's probably disconcerting for her to be watching him like she can see directly through him to what he's thinking, she takes a sip of the vodka. She can't conceive of a world where she wouldn't try to talk to him. Even if they didn't share the Red Room in common here. "Well, what have you been up to here, then?"