First lesson in S.H.I.E.L.D. agent training: patience and obstinance. It would have been easy to give up and drop out early in the screening process when they tested and questioned Teddy on everything from his booster shots to his inseam measurement to his favourite book in middle school, then strapped him to a table, then made him hold his breath until he passed out, then stuck needles in his eye. Literally. It was just luck that being harmfully stubborn was also a prerequisite of being a Young Avenger, and a gay (wrongly labeled) mutant child of a single mother had to learn patience early.
What was harder to understand was, how all of these other agents either completely forgot the patience lesson as soon as they were handed a gun, or were just stubborn enough to have survived so far without it. They were certainly a select group that expressed anything resembling patience with Teddy. It wasn't like he had a normal training regimen, his was streamlined for special ops, and getting onto the firing range was low priority. Maybe that was it, low enthusiasm for the project making him lethargic and slow and, well, stubborn. "Why would I even ever need to do it that fast? I could just hit someone faster," he was whining, probably for the fourth time, because it fell on the deaf ears of the remaining handful of agents using the lab and lending their occasional expertise. Assembly sequence, oils, bullets, little bits that totally did not go together, that was all uselessly complicated.
"Come on, Altman, try it one more time, to the tempo," one of the women called from her workstation where she was doing something far more interesting, Teddy was sure, waving a finger like a metronome, following the tinny music that kept the space from becoming too dreary from a radio in the corner of the room.