Cesare stands up and makes himself another drink when Natasha clenches her teeth into the girl's wrist. Calmly he places ice into the glass, listening carefully, before sitting behind Natasha to watch.

"Good, hmm?" he asks, knowing fully well that the chances of Natasha being able to reply are slim. She's focused on drinking, he has no doubt. He smirks. What a surprising, delightful turn of events. If Natasha weren't taken, he would touch her, running his hand soothingly over her back and neck. But instead, he keeps his hands politely where they are. Ever the gentleman, Mr Borgia.