She'd stopped counting the hours since she'd slept. If she stopped to take a breath and think, she'd be tired, and she couldn't afford that. Eventually, reason - and exhaustion - was going to kick in and she'd catch a catnap; with no one clear as to how long this would last, she needed to stay sharp and that meant not being sleep-deprived any more than necessary.
But right now, she was needed on the bridge. Well. One of her was needed on the bridge. She needed to be sitting at her desk, the door shut and locked, listening to everything happening on the bridge and running through various scenarios and incoming intel, mapping out a sense of what was happening - once that was determined, they could figure out how to strike back. She was getting itchy with the need to fight.
The video-phone signaled, and she answered automatically, without taking her eyes from the feed. "Hill," she said, finally glancing over. It was damn close to a relief to see Natalia sitting there, evidently unaffected. And then she had to go and prove why there was a LMD of her on the bridge.
Scowling, she said, "I am Deputy Director Hill, Agent Romanova. What's your report on the situation?" That was SHIELD: never call it a crisis when you could call it a situation.