It probably helps him out that Natasha is not looking at him trying to figure out why his face seems vaguely familiar. She's had that feeling plenty of times here, and far more pressing matters are currently crashing through the trees.

Her smile doesn't slip, because this is what she knows how to do, this is where she excels. This doesn't get emotional and complicated. Two rush for Clark, and Natasha leaves him to it. He can fly, after all, can't he? If it becomes too much for him, he always has the option to simply leave.

Natasha sprints past, watching the broken treeline eagerly, waiting for more to come barreling through. The first one to do so is small and quick, battle scarred, and exactly what she wants. She dodges and dives, rolling along the ground, using trees to swing from or bounce off of, leading it on a chase that is clearly far more fun for her than for the creature. When it finally backs her against a thick tangle of underbrush, and she has nowhere left to run, she ends it quickly. The combination of the Bites and batons has her smelling ozone, pain ripping through her from the insufficient insulation, but it's satisfying and grounding, and in the moment, she wants it just as much as she wants the fight.