Natasha's jaw tightens the moment the smell of blood hits the air. It's subtle, but not that subtle. She wasn't lying when she said it had been months since she had human blood, and if she'd thought she'd been aware of every single day of it before, with temptation on the bar in front she felt each of them like an injury.

Her hand starts to move to take the glass without conscious thought. She's old enough to have self-control, but not so old it comes that it always comes easy. Not when she's been living on pig's blood and the occasional strays in a pinch. She covers for the stumble by pulling the glass a little closer, toying with it but stopping short of raising it to her mouth.

"That's kind of you, but not really necessary."