Natasha lets her cheek lean in to motion of his thumb, her mouth quirking into a smile. Her hand runs down the length of his forearm as she listens to him reminiscing. Or what might pass for reminiscing, when your brain has been put through so much pain. "That was the first night we spent together," she tells him. He's got enough of the pieces of that particular puzzle in hand that she doesn't feel like it's too much to give him that one particular piece that might help lock the full image in.

She can't help but chuckle a little when he frowns over the use of 'my girl.' "It is a little old fashioned." The only problem is that it's been ages since she's let anyone use a pet name for her. "You're the only one that calls me Natalia. I like that." Not really a pet name, though.