"Sounds like me. What else you gonna call a pretty dame who looks like she could take your head off." Sarcasm yay.

Let's just skip the whole name bit. That's too disturbing to think about right now, when he's already on edge and feeling like he got thrown into next fucking Tuesday. The gun comes back up at her movement, not quite trained on her, but ready to do so if any of those weapons come out of their harness.

"Are you HYDRA?" he demands. Because his friends (well, his unit buddies, anyway) would have told him if they knew a dame like that. He's sure of it.