He's surprised. Which means he wasn't expecting the difference, but ran his tongue along the inside of her wrist all the same. That makes her want to laugh, but she doesn't. She doesn't want him to think she's laughing at him. Teasing is one thing, and mocking another. Whatever this careful balancing act they have comes to, she doesn't want it to fall apart just yet.

"By all means." She leaves her arm hovering in the air in front of him, waiting for him to apply the paint so that she can taste it. On the both of them. She can already see that the colour is rich and intense. It's far more intense than an actual strawberry, deep red and highly glossed. Someone who did not know might compare it to blood. Natasha, however, knows better. It's the shade a strawberry wishes it could attain.