Nat/Loki
Loki's initial reaction to the question was to go on the defensive. What business was it of this stranger what the nature of his thoughts were? How dare she ask him so casually, did she expect an answer, did she truly believe she had any right to such an invasion of his privacy? He was not obligated to share anything with her. His expression darkened slightly as he watched her watching him, though it did not go towards something outright dangerous, not yet. He sets his own cup down softly, leans back in his seat. His hands are folded in front of him, and he's the picture of casual and collected, except for the chill in his eyes.
"Nothing of much interest, I'm sure." The answer is sharper than his initial greeting had been, but still danced at the edges of politeness, of formality. "Tell me, Natasha, why did you seek me out? What, exactly, is it that you want me to say?"