staring into the empty pantry, absolutely scandalized Gone. All of them. Every flavour. Even the brown sugar cinnamon. Who does that?

leaning against the counter, already on his second pop tart, crumbs dusting his hoodie Speed, Kate. It's literally in the job description.

That's not a job. That's a crime.

swinging in through the ceiling vent like it's normal, because it is He does this every week and you yell at him every week. At this point it's a bit.

It's a principle, Parker.

not looking up If anyone touches my suit diagnostics I will end you.

sliding past with a mug of tea, deadpan Nobody wants your suit diagnostics, Morgan. It's seven in the morning.

It's educational.

Is that the new repulsor mod? Dad said Tony vetoed that.

Dad vetoes everything. That's what makes it fun.

Has anyone seen my potions notes? I left them on the counter and now they're just—not.

innocent Define "left them."

On the counter. In a stack. Organized.

Yeah, that's on you, who leaves anything organized in this house.

over the intercom Good morning, gremlins. Whoever's running experiments in Lab Four before nine a.m. is grounded from lab access for a week. I know you can hear me, Maximoff.

under his breath Rude. And wrong.

It was me.

over the intercom, after a pause ...Banner-Romanoff, come see me after breakfast.

sipping his tea, entirely unbothered Worth it.

hissing Everyone act normal.

already at the other side of the kitchen Too late, I've never been normal a day in my life.