Maria/Coulson
It had taken her a couple of hours, but she finally rigged up a blue-tooth system to stay in contact with her LMD, and therefore stay in contact with what was happening on the bridge. Not that she found herself needing to countermand any order - that was technically her brainwaves on the bridge, after all - but it would reduce confusion when this went back to normal.
She was still a little unsettled by it, and calmed herself by going through the armory and assembling her arsenal, and then tucked herself into various corners in the hold - anyone who saw her assumed she was an agent who'd been age-swapped, yes, but not Maria Hill, because she was on the bridge - and worked on textual communications, following reports in real-time, frowning to herself. Maybe there was nothing she could do about it, which sucked and made her restless and unhappy, but at least she wasn't left out.
Footsteps in the hallway made her look up, hunching a little defensively in spite of herself. She stared at the teen in the suit pants and the jacket, trying to figure out who he was because he looked damn familiar. "Who're you?" she finally asked bluntly.