The sound of everything hitting the floor all at once was shockingly, abrasively loud, even for the less-than-reasonable volume that both of their voices had been operating on. So loud that it gave Natasha pause for at least a moment, jolted the thought of whatever her next acidic rejoinder would have been right from her head in the cascade of breaking glass, shattering ceramic, cutlery and flowers and food and drinks in a tidal wave of destruction. It was almost impressive; for all that she'd been the one to start flinging things at his head, leave it to Tony to make the gesture that trumped all the rest of it. Briefly, she wondered if she was angry enough to break a chair and then discarded the idea. Maybe a few moments ago, she might have done. Right now, it would have just looked like a pathetic attempt to one-up him.
"Oh, fuck you, fuck you, Tony, bullshit you don't care what I do," she snarled at him, once she'd re-harnessed her place in this argument. She stomped over a pile of wet wilting flowers and broken dishes, as though the glittering shards all over the carpet wouldn't dare to cut her open in the mood she was in, close enough that she could put her hands on his shoulders and shove. Pushing, it wasn't very dignified, it was like she was a child again fighting with one of her cousins over table scraps, but she couldn't quite get herself to take a swing at him.
And so she pushed him again, mouth tight and the anger still pouring off her in waves, her whole body practically vibrating with it. "You told me what you and Steve and God knows who else are up to because you're asking," she spat. "Because if you're jumping off some cliff, you want to have a hand to hold on the way down. You think I can't read you by now? You think you're some opaque mystery to me? Seen a lot of men that are a lot more complicated than you've ever been, Stark, don't give yourself so much credit."
Maybe she would have reacted differently if it had been - some other way, some other circumstance, but Natasha didn't want to give herself too much credit for that. What Tony needed from her, someone who was willing to do what it took as long as it meant survival, to keep her head down, to be a good little Victor, it was the something that she'd needed from him just as much. And now she felt like she was standing overlooking some enormous cliff while everyone she'd been foolish enough to care about tumbled willingly down the other side of it, even if they all knew perfectly well that there were rocks below.