"Good point." She can concede that much to her, because well - maybe adding a few shots of vodka on top of her existential crisis will help her make some headway. With any luck, Yelena will have something in her cabinets she can eat to go with the vodka. Natasha's been playing it very carefully, subsiding entirely on food she can buy from the bodega closest to her shitty hotel. All in all, it has not been a glamorous return to the world of the living.

She just smiles at the protest and lightly bumps her shoulder against Yelena's. It's obviously bullshit. But they know each other well enough that they don't even particularly need words to get this kind of affectionate ribbing out. Isn't it a wonder that Natasha has spent most of her life feeling so alone?

Maybe that's the real reason she's able to keep herself from freaking out. The powers of denial are strong.

"Saw a TikTok of you rappelling down a building," she comments, mostly just to fill the silence and keep either of them from overthinking before they're behind a closed door.