"I'm not using this," Natasha snapped angrily in response, tightly, as though he'd wounded her. "Jesus, Bucky." He was right, of course, it would have been a good thing to use, it would have been a brilliant thing to drop on the crowd during their interviews with Everhart in a few days. It would have elicited immediate, emotional response from even the shallowest members of the Capitol crowd, and if she had wanted a lie that would rile things up for that particular section of the populace, it would have fit the bill. But it was a lie in service of a different goal entirely, and that meant that she had to calibrate her reaction in another direction. Instead of a pragmatic ploy, it needed to feel more desperate. There needed to be genuine feelings tangled up in it. It needed to seem as though it meant something different to her than one more useful bargaining chip.
Maybe later on, that would be interesting to her, in a clinical detached sort of way. Natasha couldn't envision a world where could possibly be happy about a child, where she would feel anything like an emotional response. She couldn't picture her first reaction being anything other than annoyance, followed by ending said pregnancy swiftly and without question. The world wasn't built for that to be a thing she could ever want, and even if they did what Steve wanted and remade the whole thing, she still didn't think it was something she wanted or pictured for herself.
"Use it, God, of course that's where you think I'd go with it," she muttered again, a spike of anger in her voice as she smoothed her fingers along her eyes, like she was trying to level them out. "It's Clint's. If it wasn't, I would have taken care of it already. He doesn't know. I haven't said anything. I'm not sure that I'm going to."