The report that Clint is nowhere to be found receives looks of confusion from two members of the group.
The redhead, who has been sitting rather content on the couch for at least two hours, pauses her movie with an exaggerated sigh. Not even looking at her teammates, she pinches the bridge of her nose and walks from the room.
"Not again," she mumbles, turning into the hallway.
The men stare at her retreating back, not entirely sure what's going on.
"Their secret assassin connection really gets on my nerves sometimes," Tony says.
Bruce looks up from his paper briefly. "Does it? Hadn't noticed."
Steve comes in from the kitchen, a bowl of pasta in hand. "You're just jealous because the only person who understands you is that weird British voice." He looks up at the ceiling as if expecting something to happen.
"JARVIS and I have very sophisticated conversations, thank you very much," he says, turning to follow Natasha from the room.
He stays a safe four steps behind her as they walk. "So, do you know where he is?"
"Yes," is all he gets as a response. She nearly runs down two flights of stairs. The door to her room slams and Tony stands outside.
"Does he do this a lot?" Tony calls through the wood.
"Yes."
Natasha reappears, having ditched the sweat pants and t-shirt she had thrown on hours before for black jeans and a tight black tank top. Her hair has been let out of his pony tail, messy curls falling around her shoulders.
Heels click on the floor and Tony shakes his head to clear it before running after her once again. Five feet, he reminds himself, keeping a careful distance between her easily weaponizable shoes and himself.
"Do you, I don't know. Need a ride?" Tony asks, his voice sounding slightly hopeful, thinking he might get more of an answer as to what is actually going on. "Or a wingman?"
She rolls her eyes. "No."
Tony stays in the hall as she slips into the elevator. "Natasha..."
"We'll be back in an hour," she says, tightening the watch that has just appeared on her wrist. "Try not to miss us too much." She flashes him a smirk, the one he has come to realize means she's going somewhere to do something interesting and probably a little bit dangerous.
"I'm not a child," he says, sticking out his tongue at her as the elevator doors slide closed.
With a frustrated sigh, he presses the button and waits to be taken back upstairs.