Coulson's sense of humour was reliably foul; not any worse or better than usual, so Daisy didn't have that to complain about on top of everything else this party represented. She only shifted her weight and lifted her chin, flinty gaze sliding his way as he sidled up to her that wasn't nearly as intimidating as it would have been without the big, comical bat ears.
"Are you supposed to be that ugly?" she retorted. At least she tried, even if no one appreciated it. Wicked would have appreciated it. Daisy definitely should have gone to that party, but she was already on thin ice with the Hammer regime and hadn't been given any indication that she was allowed to risk it. Eventually, she could insist it was out of her hands when Hammer decided to pull his head from his ass and call her in on some dubious accusation that totally had nothing to do with her clearance level or relationship with Nick Fury. Until then, she was a motherfucking bat.