Natasha's pretty sure they can both be excused for a bit of paranoia. He's not the only one that's making a quick assessment of their surroundings. And even dressed up, she still has weapons on her.

She hums a note of agreement, shifting her hand to rest at the crook of his arm as the host comes over to lead them to their table. Their places are set, but there's no menu out - she assumes as some nod towards the secrecy of the evening. So instead, she looks over at him with a smile. "Got a favorite Christmas memory?"