Clint had never been the best at spy work, he was better when he could keep his distance from a target, and playing a gentleman was a definite stretch for him. It wasn’t that he couldn’t hold coats or doors for a lady, but he was more likely to make a crass joke and go for a laugh than shower on the compliments. The fact that this was Natasha he had to act like someone else around just made it worse because she knew how fake it all was and was probably going to rib him for it later.

Looking down at her hand on his shirt, he smiled a little. “It’s just a start,” he said, collecting his own coat. Fishing his cell phone out of his pocket, he called for a cab before turning back to Natalie. “It’s a bit icy out there. You might wanna hold onto me. I, uh... I doubt those shoes get much traction.”