"Suits me just fine," Frank replied, lifting his coffee to his lips, returning her wry smile with a little smirk of his own. "Small talk don't get you anywhere fast."
She had a good handshake, but then Frank was hardly expecting anything different. She'd approached him, sat down, started talking, she was hardly the type to have a weak handshake.
"Romanoff," he repeated her surname. "Russian?" His Russian was pretty poor. Not that he was intending to whip it out to impress her, but no one would be impressed. He'd left the linguistics side of things to people more capable.
"Certainly seems that way," Frank watched Natasha as she drank, taking another sip of coffee. "Guess I can cross out 'go into space' from my list of shit to do, but it's not really convenient." To put it lightly. "You been here long? Has anyone left?" He gave her a more appraising look, then, thinking. "Don't seem to be any pattern in the people arriving in this shithole, huh?" From what he knew anyway. Which was scant at the moment.