If it weren't for the nightmare they've just lived, she might not have said yes. She'd told Tony at the very beginning that she wasn't about to rush into anything, to let Bruce rush into anything, but he'd almost died. She hadn't realized how much she'd grown to count on the Hulk's inability to die, on Bruce's safety no matter what. She'd lost so many people, and here was one she would never lose that way. And then the loss of the Hulk, and then the illness, and now...it's not a proposal. It's not a declaration of undying love. But a date--a date sounds just about the right speed. "You telling me we have that kind of technology? In the year of our lord 1890, or whatever this place is?" Her answer is easy, amused. It's not relevant. "You know you're the only one on my dance card, anyway. With or without lacy petticoats." It takes her a very, very long time to let anyone in. A longer time to want to. He's an exception to a very large rule. A silly thing like a costume wouldn't change that. Just look at what they've been through together.

It's easy to just lean over again, nudging his shoulder, and let herself stay there. Eventually he's going to have to get up, to go rest, to go be a doctor again, but until he's ready she'll sit here as long as he likes. "Maybe. Probably. It's not a holiday I ever paid much attention to, honestly. Does it bother you? Missing it?"