Yelena stands at the edge of the dock, and it feels so... final standing there, this group of mix-matched friends of hers gathered in something of a circle around her. She isn't ready to let go, so the lantern is set aside for now, but it won't be long before she can no longer delay why she's there. Why they all showed up for her.

But she'll delay it just a little longer. While she can.

"Really?" she asks, turning toward her at that. "I've heard of it, as a tradition, before... it seems nice."

She doesn't shy away from the touch, if anything, she leans a little more into it than she'd like to admit. "Don't make me cry in front of Clint Barton," she lets out a soft, water laugh; she doesn't even care if he's closed enough to hear her say it, honestly.