Yeah, you'd miss me. [Natasha is fairly certain he relishes the good natured shit giving she provides. It never comes from a place of making fun of him - more of a recognition that she understands him a bit better now, several late night drinking and movie watching sessions later.

She leans against the counter, arms loosely folded as she listens to him. Her mouth curls in a little smirk.] How many days did it take you to recover from that one? [Thor certainly knows how to put them away. She picks up the bottle of mead to examine the label.] Is this something I can try or will it end with me plastered to the wall?