"Yes, sir." She nodded and then double took when he climbed up and over the seat. Now she was Agent 13, one of SHIELD elite and harder than steel when she needed to be, but the next thought that bubbled in her mind made her feel like some brain-dead, giggly, teenaged girl.
Captain America was changing in the back of the car.
"Most of the so-named 'doohickeys' are generally easy to manage, yes," she cleared her throat and really focused on the air before her, cheeks not at all turning pink. "But the wing suits we'll need to use to land on the department are a tad different from the parachutes the infantry used in WWII. I'll try to make it clear how to aim and pull the chute so you don't, uh, squish." Mercifully their ride was a dot on the horizon and she zoomed to it.