Natasha nearly didn't open the door. Honestly - what would the point have been? She'd received the message very clearly; it hadn't left a lot to discuss, though she was perfectly aware that Steve had never exactly been the type to leave well enough alone. She could have feigned as though she wasn't at home and it wouldn't have been especially difficult. She kept busy, these days, she was on the move pretty often. Her apartment, Pancho's with Carol, COFFEE, Clint's place, Bucky's place - even the doors, occasionally, though she hadn't taken too many excursions through them. Natasha had found plenty of ways to fill her life, her time, and people to fill it with in Starklandia.
And she'd meant it, what she'd told James. She would have preferred to let it lie.
Still, if she was a lot of things and not all of them flattering, she'd also never exactly been a chicken. She was in pajamas for the night, sweatpants and one of James's shirts that hung comically huge on her frame, but there was no reason to change - she'd made it an early night - and pulled her hair back before she came to the door. When she opened it, her face was entirely neutral, nothing there to indicate what she was thinking one way or the other. "What can I do for you, Steve?" she asked, polite - and not unfriendly, exactly, but with that same sort of neutrality, as if someone she didn't know very well had turned up.