Since Natasha wasn't done yet, Clint quickly peeled himself an orange to get his body from sleep mode into fully capable of driving, even with a head full of worries and paranoia. He stayed there for eating, not wanting to provoke another wave of nausea with the smell. By the time he washed the juice off his hands, at least they weren't trembling anymore. He was fine. Everything was totally okay.

Well, not everything, not the way Natasha more leaned on that sink more than standing straight, but they would take care of that. He brought a bottle of water for her from the fridge, in case she wanted to try at least and get something in her stomach, and then went for the considerable task of getting their visitor ready for the ride.

Well, fetching the animal wasn't the problem, little one seemed to trust him enough by now and didn't protest when he picked her up, having just finished her meal. Maybe she thought, she was in for some more treats when he carried her inside where the opened transport box was waiting. The misunderstandings - voiced in high-pitched noises and a lot of these harmless little hisses - only began when he tried to put her inside. By the time he could finally close the grate of the basket, he was bleeding from several fine but painful cuts and not exactly happier than before.

"Well, that was fun."

He looked up at Natasha with half a grin and wiped his hands on his pants with a small grimace.

"Good to go?"