Coulson probably didn't mean to make that sound as ominous as it came out, but Bobbi was stuck on the idea that she had just spent half a year recuperating just for the Director to work her over again. She could probably take him. The guy was about a billion years old, he had to have a few weak points. She bounced across the car seat to lean up close against the back of Sitwell's, gripping the shoulders as she corroborated, "There's a shortage," for Agent Pants On Fire. Then she smiled and breathed, "Hi," before she slouched back with her arms flopping down onto the polished leather. The suits rode in style. Maybe she should get a suit. Or at least some real clothes; it was suddenly a little awkward, between the two of them looking so dapper, to be in her tank and sweatpants like she had walked into the wrong party.
"Did you miss me?" she asked Coulson, knowing he wouldn't admit to knowing what emotions were, but looking like she might make him regret it if he said 'no'. She missed him. Nobody at the hospital was nearly as funny. She didn't quite bounce in her seat, but obviously this going from the hospital bed to more sitting was wreaking havok on her energy and she was electric enough to run to HQ if they would let her.