"With the lines, and the - " Natasha said, swooping her free hand into a slash to show that she understood what he meant. "Women in the very symmetrical haircuts, right. I'll need one of those massage chairs and a recording of waterfall sounds, though. Not going to leave any customers leaving me shitty Yelp reviews over things like ambiance." She hadn't done anything with her own nails in longer than she could remember; manicures didn't keep all that long in her particular line of work, but they'd been something fun to do every now and then.
She smiled at him and capped the bottle, so she could reach for a different color before moving onto the next nail. A little rainbow of different colored arrows - maybe on his thumb, she'd see if she could do a bullseye. It hadn't escaped her notice, everything he'd come back with. Well-stocked and supplied, the kind of gesture she could have read from fifty feet in the air. Carol had been very clear that things like this had to be scavenged, the woman hadn't even had a bed, for God's sake. He'd gone to effort, because sometimes you wanted to show a thing when you weren't sure how to say it, or worried it had already been talked through.
"They're coming out just a little wobbly," she said, the tip of her tongue tucked beneath her teeth and the line in her forehead showing itself, the way it always did when she was minorly irritated that she hadn't completely mastered a new skill on the very first try. Natasha liked being good at things. And she was good at enough of them that it was profoundly irritating to her when the things she was bad at were silly, like - not being able to properly fold a fitted sheet, or how terrible she was at cooking. "I'll have to practice a little harder if it's how I'm planning to earn a living. No one's going to believe a good review if you're the only one it comes from, they know you're soft for me."