"Twerk." She corrects him mildly. Her glance is fond, and if she enjoys seeing him flustered and red, it's not at his expense. "It's called twerking, and I doubt anyone expected you to pick it up. Not to discourage you if you wanted to, but... not really your style."

It's quite a mental image. She doesn't doubt that's someone's thing. Probably plenty of people would pay good money to see it. For Natasha, it's just absurd.

"That doesn't mean it doesn't take talent."