"We're in France, not Utah," Natasha answers, amused, her fingers twining easily with his as she turns them towards the town's center. It's a nice area - she might even go so far as to call it cute. She glances over at him with a smile when he makes the comment about the bakery and can see the way his eyes are darting around. Her hand squeezes his. "Trust your instincts. You're going to know if something is wrong."

She's never known a life where she doesn't have to look over her shoulder. Individual people can be harder to read, but there's a certain predictability to the pattern of groups. It makes it easier to spot when someone is breaking that pattern.

His question is met with a low chuckle. "Oh, I remember Dusseldorf." That had been a good night. "What were you remembering about it?"