Going with Spencer on her first official field mission had seemed like a good idea when Jason and Phil had suggested it. They'd had all sorts of reasons—Spencer still wasn't talking much to anyone, she didn't trust people, they needed to see what she could do, blah, blah, blah—as to why Clint should go with her. He'd agreed with them, too. They were all true. What he hadn't really agreed with was sending out the kid on a mission. But, hey, not his call to make. He'd agreed to go along, help her out, assess things, and see just how ready she really was for actual, official SHIELD training and missions.

He hadn't quite anticipated just how much it was going to bother him, though.

His first clue on that wasn't until the moment that he knocked on the door to the girls' room and was let inside to find… Jesus.

Spencer stood there in the middle of the room, just turning to look at him as he came in, and he was floored by the change in her. Sure, she'd looked pretty before, in that sort of starving-waif kind of way. Too young for his tastes. Now? He kind of wanted to take his coat off and wrap it around her. The dress she was wearing was a pale pink color, and it looked like it attempted to be modest; the 'V' of the neckline did not dip too low, and it actually had straps on it. The top part was lace, with a hint of something underneath it, that showed she'd been a bit more blessed than he'd realized in the chest area. Not that he wanted to be thinking that about her. Oh, God, ew. No! Bad brain.

The lace ended just below her chest with no band or anything to mark it. Just, the lace ended, and the other material draped down to the ground in a way that kind of made him think prom dress, only, nicer. She looked completely and totally nice. Perfect for a night at a gala as his teenaged sister.

He hated it. She's too damn young for this, his brain told him sharply. Way too young.

Spencer didn't help that image at all by looking right at him and actually pouting. Pouting! He doubted she'd admit that was what she was doing, but it totally was. Her bottom lip stuck out just the slightest bit, making her look so young. "Clint!"

"I didn't do it." He said automatically. Most of his brain was still stuck on how young, how pretty, how damn virginal she looked, and God! The dirty old men at this party were going to eat her alive. He was going to have to shoot someone tonight, he just knew it. Or stab them. The minute they put their hands on her, he was going to have to shoot or stab someone. Fury was going to be so pissed and Phil was going to give him that 'I can't let you go anywhere' look before he made him fill out reams of paperwork as punishment.

The pout intensified. Clint had the urge to poke at her just to get her to scowl at him. It'd be a whole lot easier to deal with than this. "Tell your friends that I am absolutely not going into this event unarmed! They're refusing me a single weapon!"

That was something he should probably focus on. Yeah, definitely. He should focus on that and not on how much he wanted to wrap her up and get her the hell away from here. What on earth were they thinking when they'd agreed to this? "Um…" Clint had to clear his throat to keep himself from actually squeaking. "I mean, well… it'd look suspicious if someone discovered you had a weapon, right?"

Oh thank God—the pout shifted into a glare. That was something he could deal with a whole lot easier. It didn't completely destroy the look she had going on here but it gave him a little familiarity to latch on to. Her glare only intensified when Sasha started to gather up her hair and pin it up as if she didn't even care about Spencer's whining. She probably didn't. Tough girl, that Sasha. "Are you trying to tell me you're going in unarmed?" Spencer demanded.

"No?" Of course he was going in armed. In fact, he might go back and grab a few extra things now. Just for safety's sake.

"Well neither am I." A hardness entered Spencer's eyes and her chin lifted ever so slightly, a sign of stubbornness he'd learned as he'd gotten to know her. It meant that she was digging her heels in and wasn't going to be moved on something. It meant she was done arguing and was going to do things the way that she wanted, even if you didn't agree with it. Talking wouldn't really get you anywhere. She'd listen, nod, and then go on and do what she had planned anyways. Sassy little shit. That last thought was tinged with fondness.

He wanted to point out to her that he was going to be there to back her up. That the rest of the team would be as well. They'd watch out for her and make sure that no one hurt her. But he knew that the words would be just that to her—words. She wasn't going to believe them. Why would she?

Clint had to fight back all his insanely protective urges, which were probably wholly unnecessary for the girl who could most likely protect herself better than they could and who'd been doing it for a long time, and he forced his attention on the mission. The mission. The mission is important.

He put on his best sarcastic grin and let himself fall back on the teasing that he'd been doing with her for a while now. Most of the time she didn't even tense up from it anymore, either. "Something tells me you don't actually need a weapon to be dangerous, little sister."

The last two words had her scowl growing, which set Clint a little more at ease. Annoyed Spencer was a lot more familiar and easier to deal with. "Are you trying to be obnoxious, or is it just a natural gift? I honestly can't tell at the moment."

This time his grin was a lot more honest. He ignored the surprised looks that Sasha and Lacey. They'd probably never heard Spencer talk like this. Or, at all. She didn't tend to talk to anyone around the base. Clint, however, loved when she got snarky with him. It was a whole lot better than the silent and distrustful way she'd started out with him. "Just a natural gift."

Spencer sighed and closed her eyes. There was something on her face, a hint of tightness around her eyes that most people probably wouldn't notice. He only noticed because he'd taken the time lately to study her. Still, even then he could only guess that there was something wrong, not what it actually was. He debated for just a second before he looked back at Lacey and gave a small twitch of his eyes towards the door. Bless her, that was all he needed to do. She touched Sasha's arm as the woman finally lowered her hands from Spencer's hair. "We need to go check in with Lewis and make sure we have everything prepared for tonight."

No one bought the excuse. They were all agents here-not idiots. But she let Lacey lead her from the room with only a few concerned glances at them.

Clint didn't pay it any attention once the door was shut. He focused right on the girl in front of him, trying to push past his own worries or his thoughts on how she looked or anything else. Something was going on here. Something she hadn't told him. "Spencer."

She didn't give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes snapped open and there was a brief hint of a desperate light there before she had her usual walls up. "I can do my job."

He wondered if she realized how much of that desperation leaked into those five words. This had to be done carefully. So, so carefully. "Wasn't doubting that." He hooked his hands in his pockets and took a few steps forward until he could stop just a foot in front of her. "Something's bugging you, though."

"There's nothing." Again, that hint of desperation, maybe a touch of panic. Okay, wow, something was really going on here.

Then again, maybe that wasn't such a surprise. They'd been talking about her going in without weapons. It was logical to think this reaction had something to do with that. Was she really this upset by the idea of going in unarmed? The instant he had the thought, he knew the answer. Yes. Of course she was. If their roles were reversed, he knew he would be just as nervous. But… "This isn't just about going in unarmed." The words were out before he could stop them. Way to go brain-to-mouth filter.

Spencer licked her lips and dropped her head down. The little bit of loose hair that Sasha had left hanging down near her face worked like a shield to hide her eyes while also somehow making her look even younger. Dammit. Not what I need to be thinking about right now. "I just…" She paused, reaching up to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear, and she looked more open than Clint could remember, more vulnerable than he'd known she knew how to be. It was a staggering sight. Almost as much as her next whispered words were. "I don't know how to… to be a little sister. I don't know how to be a normal kid." She flushed, like she was embarrassed to be admitting this, and it squeezed at Clint's heart and stole his breath. "Sasha and Lacey were trying to talk me through it, but I don't understand it. They just kept telling me to act like any other kid. But I…"

She had no idea how. Clint easily filled in the last of that thought. As he did, he wanted to groan. Why hadn't anyone thought of this? From what he knew, Spencer hadn't had a normal childhood. She hadn't been able to be a kid or a teenager at any point in her life. Hell, she acted more cynical and grown up than most people his age did.

Words weren't Clint's greatest skill. Especially when it concerned personal things. A job, hell yeah. A target? He could talk like crazy! But this personal stuff was so far beyond him. He had no idea what to say here to make any of this better. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, or that he was sorry, or a bunch of other things he knew wouldn't go over all that well. They'd likely just make her pull back from him.

In the end he did what he did best. He led with his hands and hoped somehow the right words would come to him. One hand came up and curled over her shoulder to give a light squeeze. He ignored her initial flinch and focused instead on the way she relaxed into it afterwards. "Just… act like you do when we're alone. Snarky, bratty, a bit closed off. You stick with that, you'll do just fine."

She snorted at him, the brat. But he was pleased to see that she was less tense than before. "Shut up… Micah."

The use of his code name for this mission made him grin. He patted her arm and then drew his hand away. "See? You're getting it already!"

It was a visible thing, the way she drew up the shields that she normally carried around herself. By the time she was done she looked in control once more. None of her previous freakout was visible anywhere on her. In fact, she smiled at him, and then she shook her head. "Who helped you to get ready?" Her dress swished a little as she turned more towards him and took a step to close the distance. She reached out to him and Clint almost crossed his eyes to try and look down. At the last second he realized what it was she was doing and had to smother his own snort. She was fixing his tie. Which… okay, was probably a good idea. He rarely got those things straight. "I was going for that messy yet dashing look." He joked.

Amused eyes slanted up to him. Never once did her hands stop their movement, taking the mess of his tie and turning it into a perfect knot he never understood how people could manage. "Messy is right. How is it that you're in a suit and yet you still manage to look like you just rolled out of bed?"

"Pure talent."

"Mm." She finished the knot and then straightened the last bit of it. When she looked up at him, she smiled. "There. That's the best I can do. At least you'll look semi-respectable now."

"God forbid." Just to make her laugh, he mock shivered. He really enjoyed the way it made her eyes crinkle up and took away a bit more of her tension. Perfect. That was what he'd been aiming for. Smile firmly in place, he twisted to the side and presented her with his arm. "Shall we, dear sister?"

Spencer eyed his arm for a moment before she reached out and curled her fingers around it.

There'd been something Clint had been thinking about for most of the time while they were getting ready and he took a moment now to finally broach it with her. "Hey, that thing you did back at the dress shop… the whole," He lifted his free hand and wiggled his fingers near his head.

A little furrow appeared between her brows. Then it cleared and realization lit her eyes, followed by caution. "The mind speech."

"Yeah! There any way we can make it to where I can talk back with you without any other paths being able to get in there and hear things?"

That obviously hadn't been what she'd been expecting to hear. But the idea of having an open line of communication with her that was probably a whole lot more reliable than any other SHIELD tech they had was just too good an opportunity to pass up. Spencer tilted her head and studied him for a moment. Then she lifted the hand that wasn't already holding on to him and brought it up to press her middle finger against his temple. "Lower just a bit of your shields, just for a moment." She murmured. It took a second, and recalling the training that mostly had been on how to shield and not much else, he thought he lowered them. Must have, because he felt something warm brush over him in this strange sort of inside way he hadn't ever felt before, and then Spencer was smiling and drawing her hand back. "There. I put a light link up, just enough to be able to share thoughts if we so choose. You'll have to actually think it at me, with a bit of focus, but I'll catch it."

He thought about it for a second and then tried to focus just like she'd said. /Like this?/

Her answering smile wasn't huge by most people's standards, but it was by hers. The warmth of emotion he felt off her, though-that was amazing. /Exactly like that/

As one, they both turned back towards the door. Spencer fell easily into step at his side and Clint could tell she was doing the same as him, pulling on the cover they were going to need to make it through the night. THere was no telling how things were going to go once they got inside the party. Clint could only hope for the best. Because, really, the last thing he needed was something going wrong on Spencer's first mission. That was a trouble none of them needed.

Things were going wrong. They were going very, very wrong.

Clint tried not to clench his hand down on the glass he held while he discreetly watched his friend across the room. Getting Spencer close to their mark had been ridiculously easy. Once they got inside-and Clint had been proven right about all the perverts that came out of the woodwork at the sight of the pretty young girl on his arm-it hadn't taken long before she'd been whisked away to dance with the first in a long line of creeps. Creepy freaking creeps who really, really needed to learn where it was appropriate to put their hands on an underage girl.

Apparently he wasn't that good at keeping those thoughts to himself. He could feel Spencer's little huff of amusement in his mind, and that was a damn strange sensation that was going to take a lot of getting used to.

The presence of her in his head drew back a little. /I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful about listening. It's just, you think louder than I realized you would/

/It's fine/ Clint reassured her. Odd as it was, he wasn't going to get rid of this. Especially since it was his only real link to her as she and their target slipped out of the main ballroom.

/You need to mingle more. Quit standing on the sidelines trying not to scowl. You're a businessman looking to invest in the company, you should be talking with the best of them, dancing, charming the ladies. Not scowling after your 'sister'/

/Any sane brother would be scowling after their sister vanished with a creepy old dude like that. No, scratch that. Any sane brother would've kicked his ass once he looked at you like that/

Still, she had a point. He didn't need to make anyone suspicious. So he went out and danced with some of the ladies and tried to play his most charming. Naturally, that was when everything went to hell.

It wasn't the comm he wore, disguised as one of his hearing aids, that alerted him to trouble. It was the burst of fear and temper from Spencer that had him stumbling a little in his dance. Clint had to fight to keep his smile in place, to politely offer the woman a "My apologies, it's getting a bit warm in here. I think I should grab myself a glass of water" before he rushed over towards the bar, already trying to project his thoughts to Spencer even as he went. /What's going on? Spencer! What's happening?/

/I got the information we need/ came Spencer's reply. There was a hint of strain to it that made Clint tense up. /Unfortunately, we've got a bit of trouble. Do you remember someone named Patricia Munsch?/

Clint took a second to sift through his memories, but nothing was coming through. /No/ He smiled at the bartender and ordered some water.

/Well she remembers you. I can hear them in the room next to Iverson and I-she's thinking rather loudly/ There was a brief pause and Clint went tense, his mind racing-a part of it trying to figure out who on earth this woman was and how she knew him-when suddenly Spencer's voice was back, sharper than before. This wasn't any gentle teasing; this was Erinyes in full mission mode. /Hawkeye, get out, now. She's got seven men on their way to the ballroom to try and find and extract you. I'll stall them in the hallway - you get out/

/Don't engage, Erinyes. Just get out!/ Clint sent back to her. At the same time he turned himself, one hand coming up to brush back his hair, and he used that bit of cover to murmur "Potential cover blown. Exit plan C in five minutes." Usually he felt kind of cool murmuring those kinds of things. It made him feel like he should be in a movie or something. Right then he just wanted to get to Spencer and get the hell out.

It didn't look like he was going to get what he wanted, though. Across the room Clint could see a door open, the door that Spencer and Iverson had gone through earlier, and a few men. One look at them and Clint knew they were trouble. The way they carried themselves, how they moved. Oh, yeah. And they were clearly scanning the room for something. If Spencer was right, that something was him. Time to figure out a way out of here, Barton. Move!

Clint ducked his head down to try and hide his face a bit and started to make his way along the bar to one of the exits he'd mapped out in his head earlier. Hopefully he'd be able to get out of here without blowing everything entirely. /What's going on out there, Erinyes?/

Spencer was rolling across the floor to escape a kick to the ribs when Clint's question came in. Having a link with someone while in a fight wasn't something she'd ever done before and she was sort of starting to see why. It was a distraction she didn't need.

When she and Iverson had left the ballroom, they'd gone to what appeared to be an office of some sort. It was there that Spencer had been free to get the information she needed while Iverson took a happy little nap on the couch, blissed out and too hazy to do more than drift off to sleep while she looked around. What she'd picked up from his thoughts had helped her to find the little things in the room that would back up the information she'd gathered. Simple, really. Easy. That should've been her clue something was going to go wrong.

When she'd sensed the others in the room next to hers, scanning them had been natural and instinctive, a seeking out of any threat just like she'd been trained to do. She hadn't expected to overhear a woman thinking about Clint. The types of things she'd thought about him, beyond the fury that she felt, that is, were images of things that Spencer had never, ever wanted to see about her friend. Alerting Clint that there was someone who recognized him had come next. Then, Spencer had heard the woman's plans.

That was how she'd ended up here in the hallway facing off against seven men who were intent on trying to take her down to get to Clint. Two of the men had managed to slip past Spencer, leaving her with five.

One of the men rested a hand on his gun and Spencer flashed him a grin. She pushed up to her feet, grateful she'd gone with this gown and not the tighter one. This one allowed plenty of freedom of movement even if it did try to trip her up by wrapping around her legs. "You really want to shoot that?" She asked them, one eyebrow arching upwards. "There's a whole ballroom of people out there. I highly doubt your mistress would like the attention."

The man pulled his gun out, and he wore a grin of his own. "I think we can be quiet."

Well, shit. A silencer was on the end of the gun. Spencer drew in a breath to steady herself and then blew it back out, sending out the last of her tension with it. "What're you waiting for, then?"

She darted forward with a speed that few could match. Fire ripped across her bicep as she moved; it was ignored, just as everything else was ignored as she reached the one with the gun, hands and body moving to disarm. She caught his wrist with one hand, jerking it up high, and lashed out with her elbow against the other one that came too close. A twist and a grunt and she spun the man's arm, flipping him around onto his back. From there it was easy to twist hard enough to snap that arm, making the gun drop to the ground. Spencer had it in the next second and everything was so much better now that she had an actual weapon in hand.

Hands grabbed at her and Spencer lashed out, an elbow to the gut and a snap of her head back, right into the man's nose, and she was free to twist and kick, breaking herself out of the group of them. That was their mistake. Giving her enough distance allowed her room to finally lift the gun she held.

She'd barely fired one shot when something flashed past her face. She watched with surprise as an arrow embedded itself in the shoulder of the man closest to her. Even as she looked back over her shoulder, two more arrows flew past.

Clint stood at the end of the hall by the elevator, his bow in hand. "You just gonna stare or you gonna hurry so we can get our asses outta here?"

It took effort not to laugh at him. She did, however, turn enough to gather his arrows for him. Only one was still trying to move and she let her fist remedy that. Arrows in hand, she turned and hurried down the hall, wishing she didn't have to deal with these stupid heels on top of everything else.

Clint had the elevator open again by the time she reached him. Once they were in, he hit the button for the top floor before he turned to look at Spencer. "Are you hurt?"

She ignored the question, focusing instead on the bow that he was holding. "Where did you have that? I didn't see you bring it in."

"I stored it here earlier just to be safe." Clint's eyes narrowed on her, finding the bit of blood on the arm that she was trying to turn away from him. "Erinyes...?"

She cut him off before he could ask a second time. "It's fine." It was true, too. She could already noticeably feel the difference. By the time they made it through their extraction she doubted there'd be much left to it.

The elevator doors opened and there was no more time for talk. Their ride was waiting for them on the room and Spencer hurried over there with Clint right at her side. The two raced up the open ramp and onto the waiting jet.

The ramp started closing almost the instant they were inside. They'd made a mad dash over here and Spencer knew they both looked it. Her hair was coming loose, hanging down in bits everywhere, and there was a rip in her gown. She'd managed to keep her heels, though. When she looked up, Clint wasn't much better. The tie that Spencer had fixed earlier was mostly undone, he was filthy looking like he'd been crawling around in dirt, and his hair was sticking up straight. Spencer looked at him and she just couldn't help herself. A snicker slipped free, smothered only a little when she quickly clapped a hand over her mouth. The dry look he gave her only made it worse. Her shoulders shook as she tried not to openly laugh at him.

Clint rolled his eyes. He carefully set his bow down with one hand, bracing a little as the jet started to rise. With his other hand he waved lazily at her. "Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, you little brat."

As if that was all the permission her body needed, Spencer lost control of her laughter. It bubbled out of her and filled the jet. She had to wrap her arms around her waist she was laughing so hard. It was part adrenaline, she knew. That come down after a fight. But the other part of it was just… they looked ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

Sasha was watching them curiously, Lacey was up in the cockpit, and Lewis was just standing there with his arms across his chest as he watched Spencer laugh and Clint just grin at her. He waited until Spencer's laughter had died down to chuckles before he shook his head and asked them "What on earth happened in there?"

Wiping away tears of mirth, Spencer straightened herself up, trying to get herself together enough to report the way she knew she should. "I got our information." She took off her necklace and held it out to Lewis. The pendant on the end was a camera, one she'd been rather impressed with when Sasha had given it to her to wear. "All the photos are on there. If you have paper and pen, I'll write up the other things I gathered. I didn't delve into Iverson's mind," Here she paused, casting a brief look at Clint before turning back to Lewis. "I did, however, catch the surface thoughts when we reached certain subjects. His mind gave away far more than he probably realized."

"You stole thoughts from the target's mind?" Lewis asked slowly.

There was enough in his emotions to make it clear to Spencer how the man felt about it. How pretty much everyone except Clint felt about it. Spencer straightened up, all her previous signs of mirth gone. "I pick up surface thoughts all the time if I'm not shielding. There's nothing overtly intrusive about it. Once I gathered what I could from him with conversation, I got him to sleep and then searched his office. I was in the process of searching the office when I caught the thoughts of someone nearby. Someone who had recognized Clint and was sending her men to fetch him for her. I'm not entirely sure what she would've done once she had him…" Lie. That was pretty clear in her mind, "...but I didn't get the impression it'd be good. I alerted Clint to the change in circumstances and we planned our retreat. Two of the seven men slipped past my guard…"

"I took care of them." Clint said, raising and wiggling a hand. "Then I took the elevator to her, where she kicked some ass. We took the elevator up, came here, and now we're done. Sound good?"

Lewis ignored Clint, his gaze staying right on Spencer. He didn't look as friendly as he had earlier. He looked cautious and his emotions felt the same. "What do you mean, you got him to sleep?"

This was the part that Spencer hadn't really wanted to explain to anyone. She knew better than to withhold information, though. "I let him take me back there under the pretense of sex. When we were alone, I used my empathy to project his own lust back to him until he found release without ever once removing an article of clothing. Then I took the exhaustion he felt and magnified it back to him until he went to sleep and stayed asleep. It left me free to move around his office without any trouble."

That seemed to stun them into silence more than anything else. She didn't understand why. Hadn't they thought at all about what her powers were capable of? She's assessed each one of them and their skill levels already. That was just what you did when you worked with people. It was how you stayed alive. Or… was it the sex thing? So many people seemed to be weird about sex. Even Clint had been a bit weird about sex. Spencer tilted her head, letting her hair come down a bit to help shelter her gaze, and she used it as a screen to discreetly look at the other man. At the same time she reached out gently with her empathy to take a feel of his emotions. He didn't seem like he was upset with her. There was no anger, no disgust, nothing that would suggest he was having a problem with her story. Though he did look just a little bit… sad.

He was smiling, though, when he came forward and slung his arm around her shoulders, surprising her with the gesture. "Come on, peanut. Let's go see if these dorks remembered to grab our bags. I don't know about you, but I'm more than ready to get out of this fancy wear."

"That sounds wonderful." Spencer agreed. She cast a look back at Lewis, who was watching them with a closed expression on his face, and then turned back around and let Clint lead her to a small area in the back that offered the best amount of cover. Their stuff was there, seated on one of the chairs. When Spencer went to reach for her bag, she felt Clint's hold on her arm, sliding up over the blood there to where a wound had once been. She turned herself to look, watching as his thumb brushed over the now healed skin, and then she looked up to his face. It was on the tip of her tongue to lie to him. He already looked so upset. But then she simply offered him a small smile and murmured "I heal fast."

"Maybe try to keep from needing to next time."

He was going for casual, despite how bothered she could tell he was by it. Following his lead, she nodded. "I'll try." Then, brushing it all off, she turned back to her bag and pulled out pants and a shirt. "All and all, I think we did rather well, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, great. It's the kind of case Phil loves." Clint said dryly. He was digging in his bag now, too, pulling out some fresh clothes for himself. He gestured for Spencer to step behind the little screened area first and she didn't hesitate to step in there. She paused at the edge, though. There was one thing she needed first. "Clint?"

He peeked in at her, one eyebrow up. "Yeah?"

Spencer presented her back to him. "Can you help me unzip? I'm not quite that flexible."

"Amateur." Warm hands touched her shoulder before sliding to the zipper at her back.

She cast an amused look over her shoulder. "And I suppose you could manage? Have much experience with unzipping your own dresses, do you?"

With no one else would she dare joke with that. She'd learned that Clint loved it, though. He loved when she got snarky and sarcastic. Her dry humor never bothered him. Even now, he grinned broadly at her. "Nah. But spend a few years as a carnie, you learn how to bend in pretty interesting ways."

Anyone else said that and Spencer might've thought it was a cheesy attempt at flirting. With Clint, she took the words at face value, making a low humming sound. She'd have to ask him about all that later. For now, she stepped back out of view and hurried to change her clothes. While she did, Clint continued to speak, once more out of sight. "We did pretty good today. You were smart, quick, held your own. Next comes the fun part, though." The way he said that, fun, made it clear it was going to be anything but.

Spencer pulled on her bra, then her shirt next. "What do you mean?"

She gathered up her dress in her arms and stepped back out into view again, only to find that Clint was grinning at her. "When we get back," He told her, "You get to learn the joys of debriefs and reports. Lots and lots of written up reports." He patted her cheek as she stepped into view, his grin only growing when she scowled at him. "Welcome to SHIELD, little sister."

She was still scowling while he stepped behind the screen, his laughter echoing around the jet.