Natasha sits, legs crisscrossed on the blanket, and reaches into the bag. Who is she to pass up a salty snack?

Her eyes crinkle just a little at the corners as she smiles, the expression both a little softer and a little harder than it was the last time he would have seen her—she can guess just how long that might have been, but can't say for sure. Something to find out as they go.

First, "Not everyone does. You're just lucky that way—get a familiar face to help you settle in."