[Natasha scrub under one eye with her thumb, then rubs her nose once, blinking back the tears that want to come.]

I don't know what you want me to say.

[He has the right to last out, and the words hit their target, aching in Natasha's chest. The pain doesn't make it any easier to listen though, or to talk about it.]

I hate that it happened the way it did, I really do, and I can't blame you for being mad about it. I'd be mad too.

But talking won't change anything.