"Oh dear," Jemma has a bit of a second-sense for disastrous spills, as they tend to mean a bit more than a stain that won't come out of the countertop when it happens in the SHIELD labs. "Here, let me grab some paper towels for you, can't have that setting..."

Her habitual and usually reciprocated babbling suddenly stutters to a stop because holy crap it's Black Widow.

Jemma feels under-dressed, as she pauses, stooped, half-way through mopping up spilled coffee.