Bruce really doesn't want to hear good things about himself, because when he curls into himself like this, usually it leads to a lot of self-recrimination and grief. Eventually he shakes it off and goes back to his life, but it's not gone. It's repressed and set aside. But he lets her talk. He listens and tries to believe her, and maybe it gets easier as she talks. Natasha has her own dark side and her own demons, he knows that. Neither of them are great at seeing the good in others, full of skepticism and bad experience. Except that was partly what the Avengers gave them. A cause. People to believe in. A future.

Of course he asks every time if he hurt anyone. Bruce Banner himself wouldn't hurt a fly. He caught spiders and brought them safely outside. He brought centipedes to leafs and found safe ways to set butterflies loose. He braked for animals and took in stray dogs while on the run, sometimes giving half his meager food to them. He wants to be a good man. She thinks he is, and who is he to question her? "I have a temper, but deep down I'm all fluff," he echoes with an exhausted half-smile. "I still think you've got lousy taste in men, kid." But he's glad for it anyway. He lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles like that first walk, a sweet gesture they both seem okay with.

"Nat, will you go on a date with me?" It seems like he might as well. She's continuously seen him at his worse and can still look at him like this. He'd be an idiot not to ask.