His quick grin was met with an answering half-smirk, her mouth pulling to the side as she reeled in her focus. What else could they do? Either you laughed in the face of danger or you gave in to the fear. Giving in was unthinkable. There was too much on the line. And there was something all too familiar about the rapport of gunfire and the answering surge of adrenaline. Natasha's skills were hard won. There was something to be said for using them to do some good in the world when she could.

There was a rhythm to every fight. Her earliest training had been in dance. It taught them grace, discipline. More than that, it taught pattern recognition. It made finding the beats and then disrupting them second nature.

She perched on the motorcycle behind him, already half twisted around as the bike shot out of the alley. Their pursuers fired - she wouldn't call it wildly, but they were definitely aiming for maximum coverage. "Try to get onto side roads, they're going to mow down pedestrians if they keep going like that," she called to him over her shoulder. When she returned fire, it was precise, searching for a weak point on a vehicle that was evidently very well armored.

Her mind clicked through their options as she turned in the other direction to fire with her second gun, re-holstering the first in the same motion. "How attached are you to this bike?"