"Hm." And it's short for a reason. Not because she's frustrated or annoyed— it's the opposite. The cadence of it carries a part-thoughtfulness and part-appreciation. It's a bar that's been set, and Natasha thinks he's going to meet it. Whether that means she needs to rearrange selves to put him in a place mentally where he's a threat, well— what's that saying about time?

She arches a brow, wicked-sharp. "It's getting me out of the leather that's the hard part," and that definitely is sexual. Natasha brushes past him lightly, glancing over her shoulder at him as the bow of her lips curve into a smile.

"Better find your Amex."

And she's slipping back through the compound, marking her exit. That one, she's keeping an eye on.