Natasha/James
In his defense of not socializing more, he hadn't seen anyone else that he had any kind of familiar basis to strike up conversation with just yet - and he kind of was thinking he was going to make an early night of it besides. He wasn't good for parties much these days, but this seemed, to him at least in the moment, to be something at least adjacently important to Natasha, so what was he going to do, not go?
Hearing her mention that he hadn't seen her dressed up made him frown, nodding a little as he considered how long it'd been. He'd seen her run across rooftops in spike heels at least once before everything else happened, but James wasn't going to bring that up just then. "Oh you heard all that," he shrugged a bit, snagging a cup of punch or wine or whatever the hell it was, taking a sip and making a face. It ..it tasted like sugar and strawberries and something else he couldn't quite figure out. "I came over and it sounded like they needed a push," ..glancing down at the cup and not so sneakily trashing the whole thing without thinking on it except how his mouth felt like it was coated in candy. Perking up a little, he smiled, looking down at the lapel of his jacket and then over at Natasha, "Yeah? I found it in a second hand shop down in the village," he was pretty sure a mad wife or partner wound up throwing it out to collections after a break up or something.
And for a moment, a long moment when the music changed and sounded ..less like a mash up of folk music, polka and Britrock, his right hand came up behind his neck to hold himself while studying Natasha's body language. "You wouldn't, y'know," there was the nerves he'd complained about earlier. "Natasha, d'you wanna dance with me?"