Natasha steps from the ground to his bent leg to his shoulder to the alcove, as effortless as climbing flat and even stairs. She takes care that he can feel the bite of her heels without them causing actual pain. When she's above him, her grip on the beads is just on the edge of uncomfortably tight. "Then you will call me ma'am."

She pulls up on the leash, guiding him back to his feet. "Up." Her commands are simple, but she conveys intent with her tone and body language. Her voice is sharp, and it carries, short words like gunshots. More heads turn. She's also not letting go of the beads, so if Dean can't lift himself smoothly, he's going to end up with marks on his neck.