York smiles at Natasha when she approaches, thinking she looks lovely even if the robes don't quite suit her somehow. Most of the exotics look just slightly uncomfortable, slightly out of place, and while she seems to be at ease he can tell she's not. It's in the way she holds her shoulders up too-straight, the way she tips her glass but doesn't really drink it. When she steps into range he reaches out and touches her elbow lightly in greeting.

And then he looks surprised, when she calls him handsome. He's self-conscious about the facial scar, more than he's willing to admit, especially since getting here and having the Cetagandans judge him as inferior for it. "...thanks. That means a lot, actually."

Another sip of his drink -- he's two in and starting to feel decidedly loose -- and he glances towards the bustle of the party. "Not what I would have expected, in a war zone."