Natasha hums thoughtfully, her eyes following the waiter as he moves through the room. It's quiet for a moment before she answers, taking time to assess the surroundings and the waiter's body language.

"He's nervous. Pretty sure he recognized me, could've recognized you too. Awkward nervous, not revenge nervous." One shoulder lifts in a shrug and she smiles across the table at him. It's a weird occupational hazard. "We should eat this really delicious smelling bread and see what he says when he comes back."

In short - likelihood of a threat, low. Likelihood of having an awkward conversation with a man in a dress shirt, high.