"I'd appreciate it." Before she wilted completely from this oppressive heat. "It's more humid down here than I'd originally thought." Wooden porch, aged lumber, more still making up the frame of the house. Built to last, things down here. A slower pace of life, one well suited to rehabilitation, recover. It wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine why the former Winter Soldier preferred this place over the crowded bustle of New York.

Still, her keen eye picked up the unconscious tells; his body language suggested he wasn't totally at ease with himself, particularly around her - a living memento of his previous life. And the ties to Steve, and all of the trauma associated with that. But just as he was no longer the Winter Soldier, she had laid aside the moniker of Black Widow, and was now simply Natasha Romanoff...whoever that might turn out to be.

Natasha followed Bucky inside, at once grateful for the kiss of cool conditioned air. "I look forward to meeting Sarah," she remarked, gazing curiously around the place. Clean, a little cluttered for her taste, but nevertheless homey, the marks of a family everywhere. "Wilson never really talked much about his family, before."