Natasha had spotted the man standing looking up at the building out of her peripheral. His dress stood out even amongst the eccentricities of the folk of New York. Many of those didn't wander along the streets in this part of New York and though it had been quite some time since she'd been here, cities like this didn't change that quickly.
When he spoke, she knew he was addressing her and her shoulders tensed, tightening the hold she had on the strap of her backpack just in case she needed to run.
Stephen Strange. She knew that name. It had tumbled in terror off of Sitwell's lips. He'd been a target of Hydra's mass genocide program, one of many people that they'd seen as a threat. The enemy of my enemy and all that, she thought.
Not moving from where she'd returned to look up at the building, watching Dr Strange out of the corner of her eye, she hummed in response.
"A unique problem?" she asked, discretion being the better part of valour. Whether he knew her or not, if she gave nothing away, there was nothing to risk. "From what I know of Tony Stark, he rarely has any other kind."