Natasha looked at him as though she was surprised - genuinely startled, even, and swallowed as though her mouth had suddenly gone dry. "I thought it was obvious," she said, her voice quieting, just a little. As though she was a woman who knew she'd just made a major misstep, had overestimated how observant everyone could be. She imagined that's what it would have been like, anyway, changes that she would have noticed instantly in her own body that would have felt as though they were being telecast to the entire world, when in reality, the differences in the early stages would have been barely noticeable.
Imagined how stupid she would have felt, in normal circumstances, had she let a secret that she would have always played so close to her chest slip out like that, utterly unprompted. She'd be furious with herself, if it had been real, and that was the first thing to convey. The fury and then the hopelessness.
She swallowed again and brought her hands up to the eyes, pressing on them with the heel of her palm as she sucked in a breath, a gesture that contained exhaustion and exasperation both. "Damndamndamn," she hissed out, low, on the exhale of her breath (sell it, she could sell this, she had lived her whole life off weaving fiction). "This is slowing me down, I'm not - thinking as clearly. Damn."
When she lowered her hands from her eyes, the skin around them looked just a little more red, just slightly more puffier and possibly even a little wet - the result of the pressure she'd just put on them, mostly, but it could easily be attributed to other things, now it would seem like a combination of the physical and the emotional. "I thought it was obvious. I guess - I'm paranoid," she said, flatly. "I'm pregnant."