Well, at least Yelena didn't go immediately for a weapon. She decides to take that as a good sign. Or a bad sign if she's walking around the city unarmed hot on the heels of the chaos that happened over Christmas. Might as well just hold on to the hope that it's a good sign. She could spend her life tangled up in what ifs and never undo a single knot.

So she moves out onto the sidewalk easily, carefully. Her feet cross over each other so she can stay facing her sister. When she comes to a stop, her weight is balanced carefully so she can respond quickly. The ball is very much in Yelena's court.

Natasha looks - more or less the same as always. She cut off the last lingering inches of blonde at the tips of her hair so she's back to her natural red. It's pulled back in a loose braid. She's dressed for the weather in a long coat zipped up over her sweater and jeans, leather gloves and a sturdy pair of boots. Not her preferred choice of outerwear, but the recently deceased evidently can't be picky.

She lifts her arms so Yelena can see the palms of her hands. Her mouth twitches a little, like she might laugh or smirk but her eyes are sad, dark with the stretch of years death has placed between them.

Still, she finds her voice and it's low and amused when she says, "and you call me bossy."