[It's kind of amazing, to Clint, how much he's willing to share now when he spent the vast majority of his adult life hiding so much about himself. But the Accords and Leipzig had blown the lid completely open on his cover, identity compromised so blatantly his neighbors had been driving by the farm to try and get a glimpse of him. But it was strangely liberating to not have to hide one half of his life in the shadows anymore, and so he answers Nida without hesitation.]

It's a GPS tracker - I got put on house arrest, and this tells them if I go outside the perimeter of my property, and if I do that without their direct supervision they bust my door down, search the premises, and maybe arrest me and drag me to prison.

[Or. You know. Try.]

The feds are the ones who'd do all that - federal agents, FBI or CIA, or a few other alphabet soup organizations. Some of them are fine, some of them are dicks on a power trip. But this isn't my property, it's trying to signal them, and it can't. I'm not cutting my foot off.