Catching Clint’s hand, Natasha held it a moment before wrapping it around her, and trying to pull him up to hold her from behind. When he compared her to the kitten she gave him not quite a kick, but more of a nudge with her foot.

“Are you comparing me to a mangey stray?” she said, feigning insult. “I suppose you did find me on the streets and take me home with you...”

She was one of the best at what she did, so she had hardly been starving or homeless, but she had certainly been at a low point in her life before he had swooped in and saved her.

“I’m sure someone at the market tomorrow will be selling scarves. Or hats.” If helmets weren’t necessary then surely they could find a more comfortable solution.