He shifts when she sets the plates down and moves off again, carving thin slices of cold butter and patting them into the still-warm bread for both of them. At this stage in their friendship, they're beyond worrying if the other will poison them.

He lets out a soft breath of laughter, and shakes his head. But before he answers with some smart remark, he lets her finish her piece, and softens up a little more.

"I know you wouldn't," he says in all seriousness. No matter what's going on between them, they're still partners. They've had growing pains before. "I'm just glad that you were sent home, and not blinked off onto another planet or spaceship or--"

He sets the butter knife down, and runs his hand through his hair. The normalcy of standing here suddenly feels strange when he starts talking about space. His lips tic, and with a slight shake of his head he reaches for his glass. Kvass is an acquired taste, and one he only indulges in with Natasha, but right now he feels like he needs it. "I'm sorry, I've had a couple more months to think about how we left things than you have, I guess."