In truth, she liked bigger ships, the steadiness of a carrier - especially the Helicarrier - instead of this agile thing. But this was also one of the places where she could guarantee that they wouldn't be overheard, if only because the turbulence would shake static into any planted listening device, and altitude would do the rest.
His slow perusal was insulting, and meant to be; knowing it was just done to poke at her didn't stop her shoulders from tensing, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in irritation. "I'm told that as Fury's successor, the proper term is The Spy," she informed him.
She hated lawyers more than she hated the casual chauvinism. "I don't know: can you'd explain to a lawyer what you were doing there?" There was being a vigilante, and then there was doing anything with the CIA, and the CIA got nasty about things they saw as treason. "And if you can tell a lawyer, you can tell me - as we're the people giving you a ride home," she said as the Quinjet slipped sideways and dropped vertically before tipping its nose back and climbing, "we can keep this friendly."