It was late. Late enough that Natasha didn't want to keep going around and around in circles about this, who owed who, for what reason, how it'd come back. She was tired of fighting. She was tired of - well. This happened, sometimes, she was used to this feeling by now, too, because sometimes it came on without warning. Exhaustion with the Capitol, exhaustion with her life and everything about it, as though someone had cut a hole inside her somewhere that everything had drained out of. And it would pass, eventually, whatever had emptied out would refill itself in awhile, because it always did.
Tonight, though, something about tonight, she'd felt the hole open up again, the familiar sensation.
When a person apologized, it was never really meant for the person they were apologizing to, it was a way to make themselves feel better. And she didn't have any interest in making Steve fell worse about himself. Maybe when she was back up to fighting strength.
"Sure, it's been noted," she said. "Thanks for saying it."