Thanks for not putting a kill-order out on me is a little bit of an awkward thing to reply to, especially when the person saying it is slipping it a phrase not even her persona would interpret that way. Spies.

So, he ignores it.

"I ate on the plane," Clint says with a quick smile, because while he wasn't the one who froze her accounts, he's quite aware that they were frozen. "A regular coffee," he requests, from the waiter, and then specifies strong when asked which blend he'd prefer.

As the waiter leaves, he asks "Those recruiters been causing you any trouble?" He sounds concerned, but not as concerned as he actually is -- like his girlfriend told him about some guys hassling her to do modelling, not that he is seriously not looking forward to maybe getting caught in violence by someone who wouldn't want Romanova talking to a peace-keeping agency.