Clint sets Natasha to chopping produce, since he knows she’s comfortable with a knife in her hand, and he watches in morbid fascination as she takes out her frustrations on the carrots, onions and celery.

He dices the still-steaming chicken and guides her through the spice cabinet. “Thyme.” “Basil.” “Bay leaves.” She does all the measuring, turning to him for confirmation before dumping it into the pot.

“This is stupid,” she says, and he says, “This is what people do, Tash,” and she says “People are stupid,” and he silently agrees.

They bring Tony chicken soup anyway. And more Kleenex.