"Got it." He told her, and pulled into traffic. As much as he avoided the city now when he could, he grew up here (albeit in a different era) and his work for the pack and the department brought him in regularly. Since he couldn't stomach mass transit (too many people, too many smells, too little control, and too much risk having a nervy wolf trapped in a metal tube with all those other passengers), that meant he'd never lost the habit of navigating the city either on foot or by car.

He got her there as reliably as a New York cabbie, and with relatively little attempt to force conversation. Mentally, he was considering their situation, how they'd handle this.

Discreetly, he breathed in to get a better scent on Natasha. In his own car without the distractions of other agents or the smells of the building, it was easier to isolate her own scent and see what that told him. For the most part, nothing he didn't already know. She was a vampire. She didn't smell like rotten blood, which meant she was fastidious. She didn't exactly smell dead, which was pleasant, even if she didn't exactly smell alive either. Some vampires lived up to the undead name. Others, like her, were something a little different. That would make the drive upstate easier.

As they were nearing her address, he did speak up to ask a question, though.

"Were you born or bitten?"