Natasha laughs at that, her throaty voice soft but amused.

"I would have kitchen supplies. But doesn't seem much use for them here in the future."

She disapproves.

"Computer, one throw rug," and she rapidly clarifies size and colour. A few back and forths follow - it's at the very limits of what this kind of replicator creates - but in the end, Natasha gets something what she wants. The throw is crocheted and a vibrant yellow, and she tossed it dramatically on a couch. And then falls back into it, testing the couch.

"Kinda like that?"