"Can't prove it," she counters, and it's almost an automatic call and response. That affectionate, meaningless bickering that identifies them as siblings more readily than any birth certificate ever could. She snags the bottle to take another quick sip while Yelena tends to the picture and tries not to think about how...normal this all feels. The urge to find a thread to pull, to try to figure out why she's back among the living is like a persistent scratch at the back of her mind.

She'd walked by a pizza shop earlier that day advertising pickle pizza. This one looks considerably more appetizing.

With a quick thanks, she picks up one of the slices but doesn't bite into it yet, giving it a moment to cool down. "So, what'd I miss?" There's dry humor in her voice, like she can't help but be aware of how absurd a question it is. But it's still an important one to ask.