"I haven't had something that looks or smells this good in seventy-eight years." He said with a serious face as he spun to juke out of the way when Natasha made her way into the den - not spilling a drop of his dinner in the process.
Sleep was elusive, it had been for decades. He couldn't even guess what she had in mind to suggest but for now he would eat and try to settle into some normalcy. Sitting on the couch he took a bite of his meal, nodding to her after swallowing it. "I could say something about tinfoil hats but I'm not going to."