Clint sighed a small breath of relief and looked up to wave for the nearest waiter when he found they were already approached by one. And not with a too pleasant surprise.

Right. He should have thought of that. So much for trying not to get into awkward situations.

It was tradition for restaurants to serve their guests a small pint of grog after a meal, he had simply forgotten about it. And while he usually enjoyed giving his stomach a little help like that, he didn't want to drink when Natasha couldn't. It kind of felt like an asshole move. Send the man away? Bad idea if he didn't want to have Natasha's fork stuck in his eye. He felt pretty stupid suddenly and couldn't think of anything to say when the waiter offered them their glasses.