"Then we will have to call him here!" He spat back, her voice sounding shrill and foreign on his ears. It was dreadful, truly. What hadn't it happened to someone else? Why couldn't it have been Tigra and Iron Man, or someone equally mockable?

He walked over to the machine that seemed to have triggered the incident. It caught him how odd the juxtaposition seemed in his head. On the one hand, he was moving more slowly than he ever would normally, and on the other, it seemed perfectly natural, comfortable in the confines of her body. In fact, the only uncomfortable thing to him were the pants she had elected to wear that day.

He crouched down to inspect the display panel, hoping but not expecting to find some obvious explanation for their troubles. Who ever invented skinny jeans had no concept of human decency or pragmatism. "You're a scientist, Bobbi Morse. You have a look at this."