There was the problem. The fact of the matter was she did care about him, probably too much and it terrified her. Scared her more than anything she'd been through because Natasha had never been taught to care, to trust or the extreme to love. She'd been taught to kill, to seduce and to manipulate. It was foreign ground for her to tread on, and even more of a hardship to admit.

"I hate them. The fighting is all wrong and the women are so..." She gave him a look, "they're used as tools, I don't need to watch a film where women are used.." She didn't need to see it, not when she'd lived through it.

She watched him move, heart palpitating at the mention of him watching her dance. She pursed lips and shrugged. "Maybe, although I don't know why you'd want to watch me. I dropped ballet shoes for a punching bag".

Natasha curled an eyebrow, a peculiar question and once again she'd been caught off gaurd with his interrogation skills. "I hated it. Babysitting a loud mouthed, egotistic bastard." She paused, huffing out a sigh. "And yet it was thrilling. After all these years it was, well, nice to feel, I don't know, desired maybe? Like I was a brand new toy he wanted to play with but knew he'd get his fingers burnt if he touched" Leaning her head back she half closed her eyes, even though she was here pouring out her secrets she still felt comfortable to relax around him. Although that could have just been because it was Clint.

"I don't care if you tell him, really. I still think he's an egotistic piece of work, even if his heart is in the right place."