Seeing that Clint had both of the other man covered and she wasn’t going to get ambushed from behind, Natasha turned all her attention on her own fight. It was very one sided with the man barely managing to touch her while she laid a good pounding on him before finally taking him down. He had been a horrible fighter, but resilient; still, she hardly even broke a sweat.

Clint’s opponent had apparently been a little faster, and Clint himself not quite as skilled as Natasha when it came to hand to hand combat, so a little of his own blood had gotten spilled. Nothing serious, though, as far as she could see.

It was a little disappointing the fight had been so easy and quick but it had at least taken the edge off. Reattaching her skirt, she decided to just carry the shoes and mask this time. “I will be glad to get out of this for good,” she said, nodding her head at his question, errant strands of her red hair falling across her face, having come loose from the elaborate updo. "Do you think we're still safe to just walk out?" Polanski and his first goon should still be asleep, and these three weren't talking, so nobody else should be aware of them enough to stop them.