Natasha walked into Stark's bedroom carrying the box. She found the billionaire standing in front of a mirror in a red bathrobe. "Do you know what watch you'd like to wear tonight, Mr. Stark?" "I'll give'em a look," the genius replied. Natasha set the box on the side table and shook up a bottle. "I should cancel the party, huh?" he asked her. She turned to face him, bottle still in her hands. "Probably," she admitted. Granted, Natalie Rushman was a lot more soft-spoken than she was.
"Yeah, 'cause it's…" Stark began, "Ill-timed?" Natalie said, walking towards him. "Right," Stark said. "Sends the wrong message." "Inappropriate," Natalie added, stopping next to him. She gave him a seductive look and handed him his martini. He took a sip. "Is that dirty enough for you?" she asked quietly. "Uh, gold face, brown band," Stark said, returning his watch conversation. He obviously felt pressured. This was good. "The Yager," Stark clarified. "I'll give that a look."
Natasha allowed herself a small smile as she turned away to get the watch. "Bring them over here," Stark instructed. She brought him the box. "I'll take that," he said. "Why don't you, uh," he was startled as she sat down beside him on the arm of the chair. She dabbed makeup on his face, covering one of the bruises from his fight with the villain that Biela had deemed "Whiplash." "I, uh, I gotta say it, it's hard to get a read on you," Stark admitted.
"Where are you from?" he asked. "Legal," Natasha replied coyly. Stark swallowed and seemed to be mentally preparing himself. "Can I ask you a question, hypothetically? A bit odd. If this was your last birthday party you were ever going to have, how would you celebrate it?" Natalie pretended to think a moment, while in her head she was yelling, "Bingo! He IS dying! Gotta report it." "I would do whatever I wanted to do," she said. "With whoever I wanted to do it with." She got up and walked away, leaving Stark to contemplate her words.