He arches his eyebrows, barely disguising a look of interest at her 'ambitious' list of baked goods. Sweets still feel like an indulgence to him, even after two years in the modern world, but S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't exactly put out a spread when they're poking and prodding you.
"Nothing wrong with ambitious," he says, and his stomach growling is practically audible. He's grown accustomed to kicking his shoes off before he walks into her place, even accustomed to her street wear (though, once he's finished reading the logo on her shirt, the tic of his eyebrow turns a little more questioning); he still hasn't grown completely accustomed to the familiar touches, though that's mostly his upbringing to blame. His lips twist, hands sliding into his pockets a little awkwardly as her hand slips away and she turns toward the kitchen. He receives the unspoken message, loud and clear. "Is that a trick question?"
She knows how his appetite can be. He tracks after her at a lazy pace, a little more relaxed by the warmth of her apartment and the smell of baked goods -- not to mention visual proof that she's OK. Trademark crooked smile, friendly gestures, movements that don't show injury or distress; it's hard wrapping his head around the idea that she's almost as old as he is, and he's left wondering just how alike they really are now.
He leans against a counter, watching her for a moment. "It's good to see you, Nat. I mean it."
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"Nothing wrong with ambitious," he says, and his stomach growling is practically audible. He's grown accustomed to kicking his shoes off before he walks into her place, even accustomed to her street wear (though, once he's finished reading the logo on her shirt, the tic of his eyebrow turns a little more questioning); he still hasn't grown completely accustomed to the familiar touches, though that's mostly his upbringing to blame. His lips twist, hands sliding into his pockets a little awkwardly as her hand slips away and she turns toward the kitchen. He receives the unspoken message, loud and clear. "Is that a trick question?"
She knows how his appetite can be. He tracks after her at a lazy pace, a little more relaxed by the warmth of her apartment and the smell of baked goods -- not to mention visual proof that she's OK. Trademark crooked smile, friendly gestures, movements that don't show injury or distress; it's hard wrapping his head around the idea that she's almost as old as he is, and he's left wondering just how alike they really are now.
He leans against a counter, watching her for a moment. "It's good to see you, Nat. I mean it."