"Denver's fine." She assures Natasha, default good manners coming to the fore while she struggles to wrap her head around this. "Thank you."

She blames some of the disconnect on the sedative (she was sedated, by a piece of magical furniture, how is that not even the weirdest thing about her life right now?), but surely the situation wins some weird points as well. It's the guns, she decides, on her way to the counter. Is it strange, having so many adventures, but never really running into guns except for on that whole Russian-submarine-turned-world-tour event? Even then, they hadn't been terribly useful - turns out not many people feel like firing guns inside a tin can of a ship that's lodged on the bottom of the ocean. But these guns, these are guns with potential for use. It's just... it's odd.

Speaking of odd things...

"He has told you, right? About the space-Romans, and the robots - Cybermen, and Angie, and Artie, and the whole... blowing up the planet thing, yes?" She asks as she takes the offered plate, standing with it a bit awkwardly, a bit off-kilter.

It's just... somehow, she's not getting the vibe that this is some sort of goodbye breakfast.