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Natasha opens her mouth to answer him, but no sound comes out as her eyes shift to look over his shoulder. One brow arches, and she watches as the waiter approaching them stops, nearly drops what he's holding, and then hurriedly moves over to their table. He puts the bread basket down and fills their water glasses, then moves away again without saying anything.

"Weird," she observes, sounding amused.

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Bucky looks over his shoulder, following the waiter away with a frown. "Did I miss something?"

His first suspicion is a threat, but considering Natasha's reaction, that doesn't seem likely.

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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.

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Bucky won't argue about the bread, but he looks over his shoulder again. He doesn't see any signs of a threat. If this was a trap... well, it'd be a really shitty trap. Too many exits. Too many witnesses.

He's so used to assessing that kind of threat, though, he forgot about others.

"If there's paparazzi outside after this, I'm leaving the worst yelp review."

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A really shitty, unnecessarily elaborate trap. Which she wouldn't put past some of the people she's tangoed with over the years. But this just doesn't feel quite like that to her.

While he looks over his shoulder, she takes one of the rolls and uses the knife by her plate to start carefully cutting it in half. His comment is met with a quick glance upward and a smile. "If there's paparazzi outside after this, I'm leaving by the roof. How often are you leaving yelp reviews?" The question somehow sounds a little flirtatious as she asks it, though she gives him an innocent look as she gets some butter on the knife to spread onto her roll.

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"Wouldn't you like to know." He flashes half of a smile, encouraging the humor. Bucky likes that tone from her. "Always check the Yelp reviews. All the real information is there."

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"Yeah, that's why I asked." She doesn't miss a beat, playfully bantering back at him from across the table. She takes a bite of the roll, and there's a pleasantly surprised look on her face. It's good bread - warm and flaky on the outside, soft on the inside. It bodes well for their meal.

"What's the worst Yelp review you've seen?"

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"Depends what we mean by worst. Like worst, the service was awful, or worst the person leaving the review was mad that the parking lot was hot in August?" Because it's an important distinction.

He reaches for the bread himself, the smell prompting him.

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"Oh, definitely that second one," Natasha agrees with a grin. It is an important distinction. And she enjoys a story about how odd people can be. The things they choose to fixate on or complain about. "Someone tried to give me shit once for backing my car into a spot at a to go place." She sounds amused as she reflects on it, pushing the carafe of butter closer to him so he can get some for his roll.

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"The sushi place I like had a long, angry review about how one of the servers was 'too cool' and too many tattoos. Apparently he was more interested in showing off his ink than he was in delivering rolls." Bucky smiles wryly as he says it, going for a very healthy amount of butter. Something has to fuel his metabolism. "I figured if the worst thing you can say about a place serving raw fish is that the wait staff has too many tattoos, it must be good."

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Natasha's got a similar smile as she listens to his story. "Imagine letting tattoos ruin your meal." Maybe if they were really poorly done tattoos, but she still wouldn't be that personally invested in it. "Though I do appreciate that this implies you search for restaurants with weird bad reviews and deliberately go try them."

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"Bad reviews tell you more than good ones. The weirder the better." Look, it's not untrue. He wouldn't have phrased it like that.

But let an old man have his methods.

"Good reviews could be friends, or bots. They're doing everything they can to get those. Can't trust them. But if the weirdest, most unpleasant person you've ever met hates something for a shit reason? Worth checking out."

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She can't help but chuckle a little, watching him as he explains his methods. Honestly, he's not wrong. It's a decent way to sort through the noise, and people on the whole tend to be more likely to post complaints than praise.

"You might be on to something," she admits. "Is the sushi place your best one star review find?"

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"One of them." He takes a bite of bread with objectively too much butter and makes a pleased sound. He munches it down before he answers the question, showing good enough manners not to talk with food in his mouth at least. "There's a diner near my place that got a screed review from an angry tourist because the owner refused to go out and chase off some couple that was making out outside the window in view of her kids. That place has the best milkshakes I've had this century."

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Natasha watches with muted delight as he takes a bite of bread with what she can only think of as a heap of butter on top. She takes another bite of her own roll as she listens, laughing a little at the picture he paints. "Isn't having to watch someone make out outside of a window part of the charm of a diner?" She's only a little bit kidding. "If they're open late, sounds like we might have just found a place for dessert."

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"I'd say the fact the owner knows how to mind her own damn business is a huge part of their charm," Bucky says fondly, both of the diner and his level of butter. He's fairly pleased with both. "They make a good blueberry pie too, if that's your kind of thing."

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"Can't argue that point, considering that's why I like dive bars," Natasha admits. He's clearly delighted by both his preferred diner and the butter, and she's prepared to consider that a sign that he's relaxing. "I do like pie, but I don't know that I could do a milkshake and a slice of pie at once. Although there was a thing for a while where people were blending a slice of pie into a vanilla milkshake for flavor."

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"I don't think that's really a thing," he says. It's not serious disbelief, but he still protests. "The crust would get weird."

He licks his lips and shrugs though, when he allows, "A blueberry or peach milkshake sounds pretty good though. Not gonna lie. If we're going to get out of the traditional milkshake flavors, I think I could learn to like that."

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"I think they blended it out so you just got the crust flavor but not really pieces of crust. The more we talk about it, the more I want to try it," she muses, shooting him an amused look.

Their waiter returns, rather abruptly, and sort of...rushes through his intro for the evening. It's a fixed menu, but if they have any dietary needs, they can meet them. With a faintly entertained expression on her face, Natasha says she's fine with anything. After he gets Bucky's answer, he turns to leave, then turns back and says 'drinks?' "Well, I'd love a moscow mule," she answers, eyes on the waiter.

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Bucky shakes his head. The idea of a super soldier with allergies or a gluten intolerance is foreign enough that he gives an incredulous look. He's good.

The order for Natasha's drink gets a little smile out of him.

"Scotch," he says. "On the rocks."

He's less cute with his order. But it suits her.

"I think he's afraid of you," he says after the server leaves.

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"Who, me?" Natasha makes the joke automatically, her eyes still on the waiter for a moment as he retreats. But her gaze finally shifts back to Bucky and her mouth curls in a little smirk. "I made a point of looking harmless tonight too."

She takes another bite of her bread before continuing. "Should we bet on what he does if I ask if he recognizes one of us?"

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"Natasha, don't take this the wrong way but you'd look dangerous no matter what you're wearing." He means it as a compliment more than anything. A beautiful woman is always dangerous, isn't she?

"And you're proving it, because I think you might give him a heart attack if you try that one."

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"Is it weird that I'm taking that as a compliment?" she asks, a look of mingled self deprecation and entertainment on her face. They're clearly on the same wavelength about that one.

"He won't have a heart attack. Might drop something, though," she muses, as if she's weighing the pros and cons. "Wouldn't it be better to find out before we both start worrying about whether he's going to poison our entrees?"

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"Hey, I'm not going to try to stop you. Just saying a little sympathy for a guy clearly in over his head." Bucky takes a drink of his water and reaches for more bread.

Natasha was right about the bread.

"Work the thing about poison into the conversation if you want. Figure that will make him turn green."

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"What was that about sympathy for the guy?" Natasha banters back at him easily, clearly entertained by the idea of slipping the poison mention into the conversation with their server.

Poor guy really is in over his head.