Fitz met Skye’s look and then smiled slightly at the nickname, putting his hands on his hips and sticking his arms out awkwardly. He looked around the room as if contemplating her words, then pressed his fingers to his lips in thought. “Okay… I’m thinking… a monkey cage. Right over there.”
Without so much as a furrowed eyebrow, Skye looked over at the spot he was motioning to. “Yeah, no. Ward already has his own room,” she deadpanned, though distinct hints of smugness were slowly creeping onto her features. “It’d violate at least half of the protocol and Coulson’s hairline would recede even more if we got caught, but we can always sneak one in. Unless the cage is a metaphor for something and you don’t actually want to parent a wild animal.”
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