When Thor mentions the man looking frightened, she chuckles. "He does. I like it."

Maybe it’s a touch of genuine fear, and she shouldn't find that funny. In other circumstances, she might be afraid of Thor, too. If she were a more ordinary person and thought she was standing between him and something he wanted. Seeing as she is the thing he wants, she just feels excited. Fear is thrilling, in its own way, and Nat’s upbringing and training made it necessary to find a unique way to survive and thrive. The pain, the terror, things she wasn’t supposed to feel, things that weren’t supposed to matter. She’d never been able to do it, though, never been able to switch off her humanity. So she found another way. Since she couldn’t not feel it, she made herself like it, she made it spur her forward.

She’s not afraid of Thor, though. When he hoists her up against the wall, she grins and wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, her gym bag thumping against his back. She hears the door ding when it opens, and small blessing, they’re alone. "Down the hall," she gasps out, with a look back over her shoulder. "Six oh eight. There."