Fury had finally left, the hole in the plane was looking better and Lola was free of any marks.
Time to see if May was still mad at him.
Coulson stuck his head in the cockpit.
Well, to be more accurate he opened the door, only to then hear a grunt and have the door kicked shut in his face.
“May?” Coulson called out.
“Wait a damn minute,” May called back from under the console. She was checking the wires for shorts since, you know, the plane had a big hole in it and some of the systems to try and correct the near crash before got over loaded.
She might be short but her legs still stuck out enough from the angle she was at to get the door into her calf.
After being knocked out, dislocating her own wrist, the fight that included getting her hair pulled, it seemed appropriate to top off the day with a bruise from Coulson forgetting to knock.
Phil stood outside the door, looking a little sheepish.
Finally, after another five minutes, May yanked the door open then moved back to her pilot’s chair.
Coulson guessed that meant he could come in.
He stepped in carefully, mindful of the open panel and May’s focused look.
“Director Fury left,” Coulson sat in the co-pilot’s seat.
May continued to work, though he wasn’t surprised.
“Skye was asking about my history with Reyes,” Coulson added.
May paused and looked over, her expression, ‘why am I being told this?’
Coulson shrugged, “it that obvious we "knew” one another?“
May gave an incredulous look.
"Oh right, um,” Coulson cleared his throat.
“Don’t worry,” May turned back to her instruments, “I was finishing high school when you two were enhancing international relations.”
“Ouch, Mel, just ouch,” Phil pouted.
He thinks he might have been happier her being retroactively jealous.