John thought he recognized a bit of himself in Natasha. She had it in her to be cruel, no doubt. But being cruel wasn't the same thing as enjoying it. Well, unless everyone was having a good time. But that was different.
He poured batter into the frying pan and then moved to grab a plate or two from the cupboard that was conveniently right above Natasha. He did not at all play innocent when he had to slip in close to reach. "You could learn," he said, because it was true. But he had to admire someone that staunchly refused to give a fuck about the more basic, boring things in life. "I do good on breakfast. Can make a decent frozen pizza when the mood strikes, too." Very impressive, no doubt. Certainly Natasha would be wooed with all these skills.