"Oh, I think we all have extremely fond memories of the chicken hat," Natasha assured him, and her smile then was a real smile, one that made it all the way up to her eyes. "And I like you far too much to put you through the continued indignity of struggling to properly tell a knock-knock joke." She stood from her chair, her plate somehow almost clean, and turned to start piling up the dishes. She left his plate in front of him; he was still working on it, or picking around it, at least, but there would be more in the kitchen. He was a good cook, yes. A tidy cook, absolutely not.
And if she was far from domestic over the last few years of her life, she still remembered how to do chores. Even if there was no real need for that in the Capitol, it wasn't as though it was the kind of thing a person forgot about.
"You can let me clean up while you finish eating, how about that," she suggested, carrying her own empty plate past him and into the kitchen. She'd still be able to see out into the dining room from her vantage point at the sink. Pack up the leftovers for him, scrub out the pans....it was normal, and she wanted to feel normal for a little while. "Do you have a single piece of kitchen equipment left in here that you didn't use? Just, you know, out of curiosity," she called back to him as she turned the water on, pushed her sleeves up and out of the way.