[She exhales sharply, a harsh sound that almost doesn't seem to fit her otherwise composed demeanor, but she nods after a moment and reaches for the one with the string when he bids her to.]

I don't like it. You, all trussed up like this, but — I know it's what you want, so I won't speak of it.

[Any more than she has already, she means. Carefully, she sorts out the cord so it doesn't coil up on itself, then moves over and fits it over Bigby's head and around his neck — the loop short enough that the packet sits near his collarbones, fitted without being choking.]

There. Can you smell it, a bit? Should waft easily up to your nose, like this.