[Catra's itching to send him to the armoury (or what passes for one, here) to get working on duplicating weapons instead of clothes -- but. This is not her problem. This isn't even her planet. She needs to let it go; somebody else can deal with it.]

So then why are you wasting your time with this? [She gestures to the requisition line, her tail lashing in annoyance. Turns out Catra can not, in fact, let it go.] Pretty sure they've got the whole 'clothing' thing covered. [says the one who's been stuck in a white jumpsuit and someone else's red jacket for like, a week now--] Meanwhile, they don't have anywhere near enough weapons to outfit us all. As soon as anything out there gets it in its head to check out what we're all doing in here, it won't matter how many shirts [derogatory, like catra's never needed a shirt in her life] we've got.