When the temptation to stab a dinner fork into someone's hand had started to come on too strong, Natasha had walked out, and really, doubted anyone would noticed. Tony's place was endless and she was very familiar with it; if she'd wanted to duck in somewhere for privacy until it faded out, she supposed she could have done so. The down side of that, though, was that Tony would probably want to talk to her after all the dust was settled, and - it wasn't as though she didn't think it would be a good idea, because it was, and time was a luxury that they were running short on, and she and Tony, at least, were on the same page. But the revelation about Jarvis had left her feeling a little off-kilter, and that combined with how goddamn irritating being in that room had been...removing herself from the equation had seemed the smartest option to avoid making the kind of scene she didn't want to make. Nothing was getting accomplished; she could try again tomorrow.
Walking towards Clint's place alone seemed like it'd do her the most good, but she paused when Bucky greeted her, allowed him to catch up. "Mmm, yes, tonight was such a fun little coming attraction for what the Quell's going to look like," she deadpanned. "If Tony had provided us with weaponry instead of dinner, safe to say it would have all gone down differently."
She didn't want to watch anyone die. She didn't want to have to kill people she knew. This time around, it was going to be inescapable, and she wondered if that had accounted for at least some of the tension underpinning the room. The vague knowledge that there was a chance any one of them could end up dead under anyone else in that same room, if it came down to it, if revolutions and extractions were just pipe dreams. They'd all done it before, after all. And none of them could seem to get onto the same page about what that meant, how to prevent it.
Bucky was firmly on Team Steve. He'd said as much the last time they'd talked, and it made Natasha a little wary to be walking next to him. On the other hand, at least if someone put a knife through her eye, there was no chance it would end up being Bucky, which gave him the slightest edge over everyone else she knew right now. He'd be all right watching her die if it meant Steve lived, but he wouldn't be the one to do kill her himself, and that counted for something.
So she fell into step beside him, down the long, ambling path. "Still, the food was good. No complaints on my end about the evening."