Grant's soulmark formed on his wrist when he was twelve years old.

He thought it was beautiful.

Daisy.

It was a gentle reminder he would wake up to every morning, before being forced to face the terrors of his family.

He didn't have it for very long.

Christian locked him in his room the night after his thirteenth birthday party. Grant was in agony for hours; the eldest Ward held a hot iron to his forearm right where the five letters faintly painted his skin a light purple. A fat, angry, red welt scarred the name.

Daisy.

It was ugly and blotchy, and Mrs. Ward scolded her eldest son, 'You know better than to leave marks that can be noticed in the photographs, Maynard,' and, 'Why must you pick on your brother? Do I need to schedule more piano lessons to keep you busy?'

His mother nearly beat him to submission the moment she sent Christian away.

'Why do you let him treat you like that, huh?' She hissed as she shoved a young, scared Grant against the wall. 'You let him beat you up, didn't you? This is your way of trying to cry out for help, isn't it?'

Mrs. Ward snatched her sniffling son's left wrist, yanking it up so she could see the damage that Christian had done with her hot iron.

'How are you going to explain this to the media, Grant?'

His mother asked through gritted teeth, and Grant felt an overwhelming wave of rage rush through him. How would he explain it, to anyone? Why his older brother beat him and his younger brother? Why his father beat his mother? Why their mother did nothing to protect anyone, not even herself?

He couldn't explain. Because no one would believe him, not with the perfect Ward's family image.

'Now you're going to have to tell the reporters that you hurt yourself.' She rubbed her thumb over the fresh wound, pressing down on it and causing her son to cry out in pain.

'Daisy..' His mother scoffed as she read the burned script, throwing Grant's arm back to him. 'First is Christian with his 'Belle', and now you're popping up with Daisy's? Ridiculous.'

Mrs. Ward left, ushering her youngest child, Rosie who had been listening from the other side of the door, down the hall.

Thirteen years old, Grant laid in his bed with his back to the door. The moon was spilling into his room, and his thumb traced over the welt on his wrist.

Daisy.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine her.

Warmth. Everything his family was not. Genuine smiles. Open arms. A gentle voice that would sooth his nerves.

Daisy.

Just imagining her helped him feel less alone.

...

Skye was born without a soulmark.

Girls usually get their marks at a younger age then men, maybe a year before one started their puberty. And of course, puberty hit Skye, hard, right when she was nine years old.

(By the time she was ten, she was a C-cup. The nuns at the orphanage just loved that.)

It was hard growing up alone. No parents, no siblings. No name. No soulmate.

She remembered asking Sister Leanne what it meant to have no soulmark, but the sister just patted Mary Sue Poots hair down in a forcefully lovingly gesture, before giving some generic response that Skye had already read in a dozen of books,

"I'm sorry dear. But sometimes it just happens. They say 1 in 1000 are born without the markings, but there are tons of articles all over the news about couples who've still managed to find eachother-"

She knew this. Of course she already knew this. Skye had been following those articles like they were real life fairy tail's since she was twelve years old. But none of the nuns, or the articles, or the news reports, or the teachers were able to tell her why.

Skye would thumb at the curved line on her wrist self-consciously when she listened to each lecture. Why did she have a mark on her wrist, if it's not a soulmark? A long, curved line, as if someone began to sign her destiny and then gave up midway through. She never heard of this happening, not in anything she's ever read.

Either your mark forms, or it doesn't. There was no in between.

In between.

That's how she felt, most days.

Some nights, Skye would trace the curved line on her wrist. It reminded her of a fishing hook, or maybe a crescent moon. She liked to imagine destiny was going to pair her off with someone who began with a 'C' before it changed its mind.

Just like how she almost had a family once, but they changed their mind too.

(She was twelve when the Brodys decided they didn't like Mary Sue Poots. She was fourteen when she erased all files of Mary Sue, adopted her new identity, Skye, and ran away from the orphanage.)

She often wondered if there was anyone out there looking for her. Her parents? Her soulmate?

Her biggest fear was that she would never know who they were if the time came.

...

Grant was fifteen years old when he ran away from military camp and set his house on fire. He was just a teenager when he was sent to prison, and his brother was convincing them to try him as an adult.

He was fifteen years old when his savior, John Garrett, rescued him from the hell he was tangled in. Garrett made it clear when he broke Ward out of juvie,

'Now son, if you're going to be rolling with me, you are to leave everything else behind. Everything. You only listen to my orders now. You do what I tell you. And you don't question me, because I know what I'm doing. I got you out of that mess, didn't I?'

Garrett found the giant welt that scarred Grant's soulmark to be amusing.

He convinced Grant to finish the job when he recollected him from the woods after abandoning him for six months.

'You'd be doing yourself and the sweet gal a favor,' he told him, and 'You got more important things to think about then Daisies and soulmates, son.'

Garret was right.

Grant was sixteen years old when he carved her name from his flesh, cutting out the only thing that gave him comfort when he laid in bed after a day in hell. The brand that he adored, even after his brother tried to scar it. How comforting it used to be to remove his black band that his the mark, and trace his fingers against the curvy letters, marred by an angry welt.

Daisy.

When he was finished, the brand was illegible. Just an ugly scar, a reminder of how weak he'd once been to take comfort is such a trivial thing.

But things were different now, John was going to help make him stronger.

(The blank scar made things easier.

Plus, he sure as hell didn't see any Daisy's down the road that he was heading.)

...

Skye wasn't going to let her deformed soulmark keep her from ruining her dating life. She'd share the story, 'Yeah, I looked everywhere, and I have never heard of a soulmark not properly forming before!' And usually her audience is impressed. Most of the time, they pity her.

And that's not the reaction Skye would be going for, so she would chug the rest of her drink and end the date abruptly with a trip to the bathroom.

It was hard to find someone who didn't care about the soulmark's. It was a controversial topic, some believed in destiny being right, some don't.

Many people covered their brands.

It was private, your soulmates name. But it was natural, and it was something that everyone (except 1 out of 1000, apparently) are born with.

Skye always felt she connected more with those who were born without.

When she was fifteen, she was homeless, squatting in vacant houses with a sleeping bag and a thermal of hot chocolate. Still, she had a (irregularly) steady income, but raking in $100 on a good week was a lot when you didn't have any bills to pay.

Plus, she enjoyed the jobs she was offered; web designing (ghost designer for MyBook) and hacking into cheating boyfriends profiles and/or phones on occasion (hey, she wasn't proud of it! But when you're fifteen and homeless and starving, and someone waves a fifty under your nose just to unlock her boyfriend's iPhone... you don't look a gifted horse, right?)

Of course, with that much power, and after practicing no restraint, she was bound to crash and burn.

She was sixteen when she dropped out of high school. Nineteen when she met Miles Lydon.

(He didn't have a soulmark either. Oh, but he did have tattoos. Ink upon ink upon ink, sleeved from his shoulder to his wrist, and Skye was enchanted.)

By twenty, Skye learned how to hack into the government's database without alerting any flags.

Skye started living in her van when she was twenty one. That was around the same time when Miles introduced Skye to an online group of amateur hackers, the Rising Tide.

When Skye was twenty two, the Rising Tide was becoming more and more popular by the day, and finally for the first time in her life, she felt like she was doing something right. She spent all day and night blogging, an active member of the Rising Tide, leaking files signed by government officials when they lied about something on the news to cover another something up.

The people needed answers. They didn't deserve to be left in the dark.

So she shed a little bit of light with each picture and video post.

('They have access to your phones!' Skye ranted in one video. 'Download my firewall app in your e-store for .25 cents, so you can be sure you're using your phones safely!')

Things were going great, but it wasn't unnoticed by Skye how her obsession with the truth was ironic coming from a girl with no name, no family, and the bruisings of a soulmark yet not soulmark.

But she was happy now, with Miles who was just as screwed up as she was, but he was in love with her and it felt so good to be wanted. But then when she was twenty two, he admitted to being branded underneath all of the ink. Her name was Sarah Lynne.

(Skye was young, she was hurt, and so she ran away in the middle of the night without a word. There was nothing more embarrassing then knowing your boyfriend was destined to leave you for some girl named Sarah Lynne. Plus, Skye was never real good with confrontation anyways. Not when it came to herself. Not when she was still confused on how she was supposed to feel.

..She texted him a short, simple apology the next morning. She hasn't heard from him all year.)

When she was twenty three, Skye finally slipped, and she popped up on Shield's radar.

"How will you come at us? From the air? From the ground?" Skye frowned as she folded her hands together, leaning forward so the mic on her computer could catch her voice clearly.

"How will you silence us this time? How can you? The truth is in the wind. It's everywhere. You cannot stop, the Rising Tide. You will not find us, you will not ID our faces. But rest assured, we will rise against those who shield us from the truth, and nothing, nothing, can stop us in the-!"

Her van door swung open.

'Okay.. that's definitely not Billie the Toeless guy again..'

It was two men in black suits. Skye sucked her bottom lip, nervous, before giving them both a smile.

"Mmm... Hey? 'sup?"

Grant threw a black bag over the internet terrorists head.

Agent Ward has always completed the orders he's given without flaw. On occassion, one set of orders may be more important than another set.

In this case, Grant had no idea what Coulson was planning when they tracked down a Rising Tide member.

Garrett said nothing about this.

Then again, Garrett was also unaware that Melinda freaking May was 'just the pilot' on Coulson's team. There were just little details that they missed, but Grant wouldn't be the specialist that he is if he didn't know how to adapt. So Ward was making his own calls, and he decided he didn't want to take the risk with a Rising Tide member seeing the Bus.

But judging by the disapproving look on his current supervisor's face (Did he disapprove? It was incredibly hard to read Coulson's face, which always threw Grant off) throwing a bag over the subjects head like a hostage was over-doing it by just a bit.

But that was too bad.

Grant had bad experiences with the Rising Tide cronies, and he couldn't help how he ripped the bag off of her head once they were on the Bus and safely in the holding cell. He tugged on her arm when she let out a frightened squeak, and pushed her into the chair.

She had brown eyes, and they were burning at him. "You're making a big mistake."

She was full of fire, yet she was just all talk, and that rubbed the Agent the wrong way. "You don't look that big." Grant retorted dryly, taking off his sunglasses so he could meet her gaze. She frowned as she looked at him, before her gaze flicked to Coulson.

Grant watched as she tuck brown strands of hair out of her face, trying her best to appear unfrazzled. He had to look away before she met his gaze once again, and she looked so soft. And he needed to keep his head in the right place.

"Sorry for the lack of finesse." Coulson said as he shut the cell room's door. "Agent Ward here has had a little history with your group. The Rising Tide."

Ward pressed his lips together in an attempt to refrain from frowning. He wasn't sure what Coulson was complaining about. He got the job done, didn't he? He knew better then to comment.

Brown Eyes shifted in her seat nervously. "I.. don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay." Grant cut her off, unimpressed by her attempt at lying to them. "There are two ways we can do this."

Hey eyebrows shot up, amused as she leaned towards him. "Oh? Is one of them the easy way?" She taunted.

Grant felt another tug of annoyance, there was something about her that was bugging him, and he was one hundred percent sure it had to do with the fact that she was a member of the Rising Tide. He couldn't help but confirm to her coldly, "No."

Her shoulders sagged, her fake bravado releasing from her in a shaky breath. Grant felt accomplished that she was beginning to realize how much trouble she's gotten herself into. Now that he's got her attention, he pressed his hands against the table, towering over her as he asked,

"What's your name?"

"..Skye." She was reluctant to answer. Her gaze met his submissively, and Grant felt the word spike through him like he'd just taken a shot of whiskey.

No, that's not right. He could feel it aching in his bones. Burning.

"What's your real name?" Agent Ward snapped, and the 'hacktivist' narrowed her eyes at him, now glaring daggers. However, there was no hiding the confusion on her face at his question. Grant froze as both the hostage and Coulson looled at him, the hostage with confusion, and Coulson with a tight lipped smile that Grant knew meant he was going to get a long 'talking to'.

Still, there was no denying it.

The name on the tip of his tongue.

'Daisy.'

Grant swallowed deeply as he pushed away from the table, lips curled in a frown. He hasn't thought of that name in at least twelve years.

"What do you know about Centipede?" Agent Ward asked Skye, exhausted after spending the past few minutes going in circles trying to interrogate her. During this short time, he's come to realize that she is completely harmless, all talk with little to no bite. Still, this girl has intel that even he was unaware of, so she couldn't be as harmless as he would think.

"Centipede." Skye sighed as she stood up from the chair, finally feeling comfortable since both of her captors were sitting down as well. She began to pace around the cell, "There was chatter on the web, and then.." She looked at Coulson and shook her head. "It was gone. I traced the access point back to that building you kidnapped me-"

"What were you after?" Agent Ward said, and Skye snapped her head to him with a glare, because he had the nerve to assume she was after something.

"The truth. What are you after?"

"World peace." He bit dryly. Grant was grinding his teeth together, and he knew he was letting the girl work him up once again, but there was something about that snooty look on her face that said she knew everything he's ever wanted, and he wanted to wipe it off. He wanted to do something.

He stood up from his seat. "You pseudo-anarchist," Grant insulted as he slowly approached her, "Hacker types, love to stir things up."

Skye rose her eyebrows and crossed her arms against her chest, having the nerve to smirk at him as if saying quietly, 'Oh really? Please, do go on.' She looked like she was trying to challenge him. Grant didn't even realize how close he was to her now. "But you're never around for the fallout. People keep secrets for a reason, Skye."

And really, when did he get so close? He was towering over her, practically speaking through gritted teeth as he had to refrain himself from reaching out and... doig what? Wringing her neck? Touching her skin?

She jabbed him in the chest with her finger, and Grant took a step back, catching his breath.

'What the hell am I doing?' He was getting worked up over nothing.

"Well just because your 'reasonable', and.." Skye jabbed him again so he would take another step back out of her personal bubble. Agent Ward flinched at her touch, looking down at her hand with a confused look on his face, and Skye found herself distracted. "..firm.. Doesn't mean you're not an evil, faceless government tool bag."

Grant threw his head back in frustration, and he was nearly begging the girl to confess. "Just give us your guys name!"

"He's not my guy!" Skye said, just as frustratedly, because this blacksuit agent was probably the most stiff, stick-up-his-ass guy she's ever met.

"You understand he's in danger?" Coulson cut in, since the conversation finally turned baçk to 'the guy',and not more banter between the two. He sat back quietly as he watched his agent interact with the girl.

Agent Ward was better then this. Yet for some reason, he was letting this girl get under his skin. It would make sense, Coulson was aware of Ward's interaction with the Rising Tide, but he thought the specialist would be able to tamper down his personal feelings.

This girl was an asset, and it was like he was doing his best to piss her off.

"Then let me talk to him!" Skye said, turning to Coulson. "Me! Not the.. T1000 here," She said, gesturing towards the robo-man next to her.

Grant let out a knowing huff, "You want to be alone with him. Of course." before turning his attention to Coulson as well. "She's a groupie. All this, 'hacking into SHIELD', 'tracking powers'? She might as well be one of those sweaty cosplay girls crowding around Stark tower-"

Coulson abruptly stood up from his seat and walked towards the door while Skye let out an unamused squeak,

"What-? I would n-? Nn- it was one time."

Coulson slammed the door open, before gesturing calmly outside and glancing at his Agent.

"Ward."

Grant sighed as he followed him out, sliding the door shut behind them.

It felt good to be out of that cramped cell, the way she was looking at him was suffocating, he didn't realize how tense he was until he let out a shaky breath.

"Is it the girl?" Coulson asked him simply, and Grant's gaze snapped to the agent's back as Coulson led them through the Bus. He was worried that Coulson noticed his unease. He couldn't explain the feeling, but he thought he'd done a pretty good job hiding it back in the cell.

"Sir?" Ward asked, nervous.

"Or is it the assignment? Are you so anxious to get out of this, that you would deliberately blow an interrogation?" Coulson asked calmly, glancing behind his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Grant, before facing forward once again.

Ward swallowed. Coulson didn't notice. He just thought he was bad at his job. Grant wasn't sure why it was that he was so nervous. Coulson stopped at a locker and punched in his code.

"Sir, just give me a minute alone with her," Grant pleaded through gritted teeth. All he needed was one minute, unsupervised, and he would really make her talk. The girl seemed easy enough to frighten.

It was as if Coulson could read his mind, "She's an asset."

"She is such an a- asset?"

The agent was calm as he moved some things around in the locker, pulling out a dangerous looking syringe that was already loaded with some green kind of, hopefully, poison. Grant looked at the device with an approving nod as if satisfied he finally brought out the big guns.

Coulson smirked at the specialist.

"Look, Agent Ward. We don't know anything about this girl. Do you understand how rare that is? We have an opportunity here, and I'm gonna take it." He squeezed the syringe gently, and some of the green liquid squirted out.

Grant smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets as he examined the syringe. Maybe it had some type of acidic that burned when it entered the blood system. He could work with that. She'd last maybe twenty five seconds, half a minute tops. Then they could give her the antidote once she started talking. Cause that's what she is, all talk.

He was starting to understand why Garrett and Phil were such good, old buddies.

(If they were really such good friends, Coulson would share the secret on how he managed to come back to life. Secrets don't keep friends.)

When the two were heading back towards the holding cell, Grant could help but ask Coulson, "But what are we going to do about the antidote, sir?"

Agent Coulson simply raised his eyebrow, making an amused face. "Hm?" He answered vaguely.

Grant shrugged his shoulders. Maybe the poison didn't have long lasting effects, thus needing no antidote. All the better.

Right?

"This, is QNB216." Coulson pulled the green vile out of the syringe, twisting it around between his finger tips so that Skye could get a better view of it.

Grant watched as she flinched in her chair, frightened at the sight of the syringe, and it was hard for him to remember why it was that she made him feel so...? Worked up? He was twitchy, and it made him agitated, and now she was scared, and he could actually feel her fear.

Grant began to pace the cell, rubbing anxiously at his neck. Why wouldn't she talk? He could make her talk. And then they could just throw her in jail. Put her on probation. Get rid of her.

But she wouldn't talk. He could feel it, he just knew. And he could see it in her pretty little brown eyes, those honeyed hues blinking up at him with ignorance, completely unaware of what he is capable of. Of the things he's done to make people like her talk.

"It's a top-shelf martini of sodium-pentothal derivatives. Now, I don't have much, but in this case, I think you're worth cracking it open."

Skye sucked in a shaky breath of air, but maintained her cool. Grant approached Coulson, digging his fingers into the desk that the hostage was sitting in.

"It'll hurt," Grant promised her darkly, and the way her eyes flickered between him and Coulson, he just knew. He knew that he managed to break her, and he was relieved, because he really didn't want to hurt her.

(Why didn't he want to hurt her? She was a liability, he didn't owe her anything. He didn't know Skye. He didn't know Skye.

She wasn't Daisy. He didn't have a Daisy anymore.)

Coulson smirked, before plunging the syringe into Agent Ward's chest. "Did that hurt?"

He then smiled sheepishly at Skye, pointing his thumb awkwardly at the agent who was tearing the syringe out from his chest, explaining to her vaguely. "It's truth serum."

Skye watched as the cranky man in a suit grunted in pain as he pressed him palm against the spot where the bald one in a suit shot him. Ward could already feel the drug, the fucking truth serum's, poison working it's way into his system.

"Have you lost your mind? You should never do that, to a member of your team." Grant gritted his teeth together in pain, "And yes. It did hurt a little bit, but I try to mask my pain away in front of beautiful women because it makes me seem more masculine- My God." Ward needed to take a seat, and he slouched down in the chair across from Skye. He placed his head in his palm. "This stuff works fast."

Skye's jaw was still dropped open from shock, and did he say beautiful? Okay, she could work with that. Woo. Go truth serum.

Truth serum actually exists?

"Don't trust us?" Coulson asked, backing away towards the door. Skye finally managed to regain her composure when Coulson met her eye with a knowingful smirk, sliding the door open. "Ask him whatever you'd like."

Grant's head snapped up once he realized Coulson was abandoning him. While he was like this.

Truth serum in his blood.

With her.

(Garrett never trained him for a situation like this.)

"This is definitely not protocol!" The agent snapped when his superior left the cell.

Skye was smirking. The agent across from her was nervous, to say in the least. Now that he had truth serum running in his blood, he was literally an open book. How cool was that? Skye waited until he met her gaze before she slowly tugged her jacket off, revealing her long sleeved v-neck shirt.

His gaze dropped to her breasts. He licked his lips nervously before darting his gaze back to her eyes, and Skye resisted the urge to laugh in his face. Men!

"You seem nervous," She observed in a husky voice, hanging her jacket on the back of her chair. "You were pretty confident about a minute ago. What's the matter?" Skye leaned forward, inching closer to him. "Something on your mind?"

The agent recoiled back, shifting in his chair tense as he remained strictly PG eye contact with her. "I-I'm calling to mind my training."

"Aw, we don't have to do that, now." Skye said gently, leaning back in her chair with a demure pout. She knew exactly how to work men, and this man currently couldn't hide anything from her.

Skye was determined not to let the fact that he was a super scary toolbag from a faceless government that lurks in the shadows with years of training, outweigh the fact that she was hot, he was on truth serum, and she was going to make him open up like a walnut once she was through with him.

"Why don't we start with your name?" Skye asked sweetly.

"Why don't we start with yours?" Grant deflected easily. He wasn't sure if it was the truth serum, or that feeling in his gut, but he just wanted to know.

She frowned at his response, and Grant didn't miss the tight curl of her lips. "You're not answering my question. And I told you my name already. It's Skye."

"Grant," His name slipped through clench teeth. He groaned, closing his eyes when he realized that he gave her his first name hoping for some sort of reaction. Like a flash of recognition in her sweet eyes, or a clench of her fists to show that she knew his name as well. That she was marked, just as he was. As he once had been. Daisy.

Skye didn't seemed fazed in the least. She lifted an eyebrow at him, chin resting in her palm as she looked at him boredly. "Grant...?" Skye pressed him.

He sighed in defeat, "Ward."

"Well, Grant Ward!" Skye said cheerfully, glad to know the identity of the man who bagged and kidnapped her. She stood up from her seat and approached him slowly. "That wasn't so hard now.. was it?" The look on her face was enough to have him clenching his fingers into his chair. She knew what she was doing to him, and he hated being in this position where he couldn't mask his feelings. It was a weak doze of truth serum, but he was already having a hard enough time not getting worked up around her before he was drugged. And now.. well, now him and Coulson were going to have a very long conversation when this was over.

"There is no way.." Grant cleared his throat as she approached, folding his hands on the table and avoiding her gaze as he said determinedly, "..I'm going to reveal classified information.. to a girl who's hellbent on taking us down."

He could tell by the smug little look on her face, she thought she could get what she wanted from him. He was stronger then that, stronger then a little dose of truth serum to leak secret intel to a girl who was definitely going to blog it out to the public as soon as she was done with him.

He didn't expect her to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He could feel her warmth through his suit, and he clenched his hands together tighter on the table.

Her hair brushed against his ear as she asked him in a gentle tone, "Have you ever killed somebody before?"

His response was immediate, toes curling in his shoes at the sound of her voice, so close.

So familiar.

"Yes," He released in a panted breath that came out completely on it's own accord. "A few.." Ward clenched his eyes shut, realizing how responsive the truth serum was making him. He clenched his teeth together, speaking in a strained voice. "..high risked.. targets. But they were terrible people.. who were trying to murder nice people, and I didn't feel very good afterwards."

Skye took a step back, and Grant didn't need to look at her face to see the disgust that was there.

Has he mentioned he hated truth serum? He could literally feel her withdrawing from him, and Ward frowned at the loss. Fortunately, Skye took a seat on top of the desk next to him, and she was close enough where he could still feel her heat. But she wasn't reaching for him anymore.

There was a slight lull where Skye was looking at the walls and Grant was glaring at his hands. He glanced up at her, and Skye leaned back on the desk casually, as if she were having a normal chat with an old friend. "So if you felt bad, then why did you do it?"

"Because they were bad people, Skye." He growled out the name that she gave him. He stood up from his seat. He didn't know what game she was trying to pull, but if she wasn't interested in S.H.I.E.L.D. intel, then he wasn't sure what it was that she wanted. "And someone needs to stop those bad people, Skye, and that's what I'm for. To protect people like you, who are able to sit behind their computers where it's safe, causing a mess, so people like me have to clean everything up."

"It sounds like you're trying to tell me you're the good guy."

"That's because I am!" Grant hissed down at her.

Skye hopped down from the desk, and she barely reached his shoulders, but that didn't stop her from looking up, up, up at him from underneath thick, dark eyelashes. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides as she replied back to him with equal the determination,

"Then start acting like it!"

Grant paused.

She was still scared of him.

He didn't know how he could tell, but he just did. It wasn't in her eyes, because she was looking at him with a heated expression that matched his own.

It was as though there was a shift in the air, a pluck of a note that suddenly rang through his mind, down his spine, and Grant faltered just the slightest bit. Skye lifted an eyebrow as he backed down. Agent Ward slouched into his chair, hands folded on the table top calmly.

Clearly, whatever it was that Coulson had in mind, it wasn't anything that involved frightening their.. asset. Grant figured his best move would be to play nice.

"Alright. Ask me whatever you like."

Skye leaned towards him once again, "Does your grandmother know what you do in your free time, Agent Ward?"

Grant gulped. "Gramsy?"