Natasha and Jessica would have shared that opinion and their respective abilities. She would have agreed with Jessica that they weren't really a gift, but it would sort of be pretty ridiculous to not call them one. Natasha looked in the mirror somedays and wasn't even sure how she was able to pull off some of the things she could. As far as she was aware the KGB hadn't pumped any of the Red Room girls full of soldier serums - not like Steve or Bucky had at least, well at least probably implied it might have been a different type. The realiy is that Natasha only knew about the one surgical procedure. And that had been enough. If there had been others? She was unaware. But what they'd taught her, what they'd made her into was what had kept her alive and she couldn't curse them for that. She was smart and she definitely wasn't hard to look at so she probably could have had a reasonably good life if she'd just been left in Stalingrad. A reasonably good one. Probably gotten a formal education. Probably been able to marry. Maybe even actually been able to have some kids. Had family. At the end of the day - her path to her powers, unlike Jessica's was probably the only reason she had family. Her's was always at risk back in the 80s. Always. No one was safe in the USSR and Natasha going away had made them safe.
Or something. And now she was what she was. Gift and a curse. Lots of red to wipe out of her ledger. Maybe getting a cat would help her feel a little less prone to still needing to do that. She was, as she'd told Kate, definitely considering it but... those thoughts weren't for rooftops and whiskey.
Rooftops and whiskey were for telling the closest thing you had to a confidant on a planet that was your's but also wasn't that you knew the mysterious stranger and, oh ya, half the people you know fucking die.
Chuckling Natasha took the glass from Jessica, "I'll treat you back one night, don't worry." She joked, tipping her glass towards Jessica. "Za zdaróvye.." She noted before taking a health sip of the alcohol - the burn didn't always feel nice, but right now it did. And anyway, she was sort of still at least a little Russian, a little, so she could still appreciate the practice. "Probably a little worse than you could imagine." She admitted, bringing her wrist up to her lips and drying them gently. "How I know Rocket is... less than fairy tale quality storytelling."