"Ah," Natasha said once she swallowed, and while she could feel him looking at her, almost anticipating her saying something, the expectation in him did not make her uncomfortable. Clint was one who knew when to ask questions and knew when to let her sort it out for herself, and that was always an invaluable trait in a friend. She often had little reason to regret that she wasn't demonstrative or loquacious when it came to her own feelings of fondness, because if there was ever another human being on the planet who deserved to know how dear he was, Clint was it.

"Well," she continued. "When did you come from? As in, what year? What was the last assignment you and I worked on together? That might sound weird, but please entertain me."

It was possible, even highly likely, that she and Clint came from two different timelines. She mostly needed to find out if New York had already happened for him or not, as Loki being in attendance at the hotel was going to be a whole other barrel of worms to tackle, but she trusted Clint enough to think that he'd listen to her before he sat out with murderous intent. Mostly.