Queen dragged his ass up onto a jumpseat, and just in time; Maria looked up as one of the pilots said something that sounded rather like "evasive maneuvers", and placed her hand on the hull to brace herself upright as the Quinjet banked hard, still climbing, running hard for international airspace before a cartel scrambled fighters after them.
She'd really become accustomed to people of a certain lifestyle recognizing her when she showed up, even if she still bitched about it. She'd become Fury, the one everyone knew when they saw him, and what he headed, even if they were espionage agents. Arching an eyebrow when he didn't, she almost smiled, even as he quipped about what this would cost him. "Then you're not content to take this as your official Christmas Miracle?" she asked with what, under the circumstances, was humor, though hidden under a voice full of red tape; the official tone was also a way to deflect his jokes and innuendo.
"We're-" she reached out and tapped her knuckles on the hull of the Quinjet to indicate it as well - "the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics division." She gave him a moment to work out the acronym, then opened the file. "Let's talk about why the CIA dropped you into Madripoor."