One nice thing about taking the Quinjet is that it's stocked to hell and back with everything they might need, up to and including the good painkillers. An hour or so before landing, Sharon heads to the little medical bay and searches out a syringe of something stronger than the pills the doctor had given her, injecting it into the muscle of her thigh. Looking up, she catches Natasha rummaging through a locker nearby, one slim eyebrow arched up toward her hairline.

"Don't give me that look," Sharon tells her, amused. "Like you haven't done the same damn thing."

"What look?" Nat counters, and sidles off as Sharon rearranges her clothing. Annoyingly, since she's appearing as Irma, she's not able to gear up quite as much as the others, either with body armor or weapons. But she'll find a way to make do.