'Of course'. Well, she could have said that herself. The door swishes shut behind her, and she shakes her head briefly before taking a look around.

Clint's room is neat - which is to be expected - but there's still the small marks of his presence. Mostly, it's just because she knows him well enough.

The bedsheets, though. The purple bedsheets.

Natasha gives him an amused (and very fond) look, and lightly flops over the bed. She doesn't even have to think about leaving enough room for him; it's automatic.

"Well," she says. "This is going to be interesting."