At fifteen, she was the youngest Avenger and completely incapable of keeping a thought to herself. “Why does this plan suck so much?” she blurted during a briefing, immediately followed by, “—I mean, not suck, just… aggressively flawed.” The room went silent while she shrank a little but kept going anyway. On missions, her mouth moved faster than her brain: “Is he supposed to look that ugly or did the explosion do that?” she muttered over comms, earning a sharp, “Language,” from someone older and tired. She never meant to be rude—half the time she didn’t even realize how bad it sounded until she saw the looks on their faces. “What? I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” she’d argue, defensive but honest. Under the inappropriate comments and accidental insults was a kid who cared fiercely, fought hard, and was still learning when to think before she spoke—even if the words slipped out anyway.