Sewing was one of those things that Clint had done in the past, but just the very much most basic stuff that only needed a needle and thread. Tacking things together during missions, mostly, when trailing fabric or loose harness straps could mean the difference between life or death. Or, back in his childhood, he'd mended his socks a few times and sewn up rips in shirts more than once, but never anything more complicated than that and he'd long since passed the point where he could afford to just buy clothes to replace the ones he'd destroyed. Clint was capable of a lot of physical things, pretty much anything physical he'd ever tried within human capability, but that didn't mean he was good at all of them especially if he hadn't had to do anything like it in forever.

"Yeah, one of those." He copied Buffy in picking up a jumpsuit and turning it over, spotting stains that he knew were grease, oil - and blood. Fun. "We're gonna be here 'til next month with this pile."