Elektra looked down, finding her hand in his under the wintery haze of shoppers and snow. His warm spread up her scarred finger tips and arm still stinging from the latest round of homemade stitches it had endured. It surprised her to say the least; her previous grip on his arm only meant in protection and nothing more. It was strange how she found herself feeling protected in his grip instead; the constant pressure on her hand was oddly reassuring to the assassin. It reminded her of Matt for a moment before she quickly estinguished the thought.
The assassin had been about to answer the question of Santa and 'being nice' where suddenly a dark hared gentlemen approached. Honestly, she didn't think that wary glance he cast in her direction as anything less than expected. Tony had been kidnapped and almost killed by her twice; it was reasonable to expect his workerbees to be worried about him. Mr. Stark was supposedly precious cargo after all. Elektra merely met his gaze with a neutral one of her own, studying him and already knowing he was not as extraordinary as the boss he was attempting to protect. Her sai would do a number on him, but Elektra would play nice...for the moment.
The interruption set off a chain reaction and suddenly the warmth was gone from her hand and she was once more left with coldness in her appendages. It bothered her more than she would like to admit. "I don't have your number Mr. Stark," she said simply.