"The science kids," Natasha echoed. It seemed amusing to refer to them as kids, but admittedly, they sort of were - well, compared to her and James. In a sense. "Probably should let them, yes. I can go with you if you'd like." She took his hand with another of her enigmatic smiles, as she assured him, "I was born in 1928. Admittedly, my upbringing was a little different than yours - "
She'd lost everything in that fire, only she didn't know it. Raised to be the perfect spy, raised to be a weapon - a ballet dancer, lithe and limber, edges and ice and razorblade sharp. Secrets and lies, though she had known paternal love. At least there was that. "But I know this dance too."
And thus she'd let him lead. Countering the pull he gave her, she stepped forward. To effortlessly ease into it.