"You're telling me that you got Captain America-the War Hero, Steve Rogers-to become best friends with a thirteen-year-old kid? What, is this supposed to slowly introduce him to how irritating Generation Z is? Project Training Wheels or something?"
...
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Lizzie was becoming convinced that S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to separate her and Sharon. The break when she was supposed to meet up with her older sister never happened. Instead, Monroe received a message that she and Carson were both busy at the moment and unable to take over their shifts—which left Lizzie with Monroe the entire night, not having seen Sharon in nearly an entire day. The uneasiness only grew with every passing minute, and her panic had already maximized to its full potential after Monroe's brows furrowed at his laptop for a second and she thought he'd figured out what she did. She wanted Sharon. She needed to know she was okay.
Lizzie trusted Monroe—or, at least, she thought she did. Now, she wasn't sure if there was anyone in the Triskelion that she trusted anymore besides her sister, who coincidentally was the only person she couldn't see. Sharon still didn't know about HYDRA as far as she knew. That meant that wherever she was, whatever she was doing, she was right in the line of fire and she had no way of warning her. Lizzie, at least, was holed up with her S.H.I.E.L.D. school teacher—who she hated having to even consider being the enemy. It was Monroe. He couldn't hurt a fly. Literally. He had the upper body strength of a noodle. She didn't want to think about him being the bad guy when she cared about him so much.
"When was the last time you slept?" he asked suddenly, his droopy eyelids lifting to look at her. "You look like a drug addict on their first day of withdrawal."
She glanced at the digital clock on one of the computers, noticing that it was eight a.m. and frowned. "I took a nap around ten until three. You were asleep when I woke up. Snoring like a trucker at a pit stop."
Monroe's lips dropped down into a scowl at the reminder that he'd dozed off for a few minutes in the middle of doing his job. Lizzie raised her eyebrows, taunting him. Finally, she got up, stretching out her limbs with a wince when certain body parts cracked and others seared in pain. Then, her brows furrowed when she noticed a bag seated next to the door. That hadn't been there before. Turning to look over at Monroe, she pointed in the direction of where the bag was placed.
