Her expression splits, shutters, and lands on something that's equal parts pleased and obviously flirtatious. She follows him, pivoting and dropping from the wall at the same point; she tucks and lands in a roll, straightening to look at him in a way that suggests that if they're measuring the size of gymnastic dicks, he's got a way to go. But, you know. It could be fun.

"You do," she agrees, and Natasha's mouth quirks. "I'm thinking black tie? Pick me up in your limo at seven?"