She didn't answer, too concerned in spitting the blood from her mouth, the metallic taste all too familiar on her tongue. Feeling the weight of his glare like a heavy burden, but she felt no remorse. Out of everyone it should have been Clint who knew not to piss her off. He'd watched her take apart men in higher power than him through her anger, watched her laugh in their faces and saw the rage bubble under her skin.

Tension had always been apart of her life, but being around Clint had made her see tension in a whole other light. She didn't know how to control feelings, didn't know if they were real or something created to test her resolve. She knew it ran deeper, she just couldn't explain or understand how deep. Caring wasn't the same as loving but Natasha couldn't decide between the two.

"No" She mumbled into the floor. Finally finding the will power to push herself up, sitting back against the cots frame. Finally defeated and tired from her exertion. The cut would heal, by morning it would be nothing but a small mark, thanks to the serums she'd been pumped with, the enhancers. "Don't. Don't even.. no" Hand was raised defensively as if she was conducting the bricks to slot back into the walls he'd just torn apart. "I.. You.. I can't." She mumbled, wondering if this sudden come-down was what it felt like to be a lost child. Finally she stood, rubbing at her wrists, turning to face him, eyes finally raising to his face. "Congratulations. I'd give you a gold star but I didn't bring my sticker book" Eyes were narrowed, forcing herself down onto the cot, spread out on her back, fighting off the headache blossoming in her temples.

"Be lucky I kicked you and didn't just choke you out Barton"