"LL Bean. Yes. Totes." Natasha gives their surroundings a subtle once over, looking for any sign of Clint snickering quietly to himself in a tree. If Major is a prank, he's a good one. If he's not, then he's the most aggressively normal seeming person she's met in a long time. So far, he's like the cover an inexperienced agent would concoct if asked to create a totally average Nice guy civilian. Right down to the sheepishly self deprecating jokes.

She raises the bracelet to her mouth, using her teeth and tongue to quickly slip the toggle out of the ring so that she doesn't have to stop petting Minor entirely. "It's because we're a small group of people here working against pretty harsh odds to survive. If we don't help each other, we're fucked. Yes, we're talking about a puppy harness and not basic food and shelter, but the principle is the same. We help each other, because everyone is more likely to fail on their own. It's a sliding scale, but... everyone could use better odds, right?" She waits a beat, then begins unraveling the bracelet, tucking the toggle into her shirt pocket. "And yes, I'm pretty sure this little guy doesn't stand a chance if you don't get some help. I could see you wasting an entire set of sheets trying to make something usable. That doesn't do anyone any good. You're still going to give up your shoelaces for a temporary leash, though. He is your dog."