Anyone else would have been overwhelmed by life in the Avengers Tower after two days (read: Jane), but Darcy Lewis was made of sterner stuff than that. And the Avengers were a bit eccentric, sure, but they weren't more dangerous than that. Sure, it was a bit startling that Clint shot Nerf arrows out of the air ducts at you, and that Tony was an actual, veritable mad scientist, and Bruce not far behind him. Natasha would have been just plain terrifying, if it weren't for Darcy's previous experience with extremely competent women, Steve and Thor had no concept of common culture and Coulson taped reality shows on the DVR. Once Thor got the hang of it, he taped bridal shows in abundance. If the DVR hadn't been perfect, fabulous StarkTech, it would have crashed and stopped playing anything but Bridezilla and What Not to Wear. But it was, and it hadn't, and all was well.

But Darcy Lewis wasn't intimidated by any of these people. Darcy Lewis was a St. Trinian's girl, and she was made of sterner stuff than that.

Yeah, she kept in contact with the other girls. They were a huge, mildly dysfunctional family, how could she not? But she had never intended for her current life as handler and public relations manager for the Avengers to mix with her old life, as St. Trinian's girl. Frankly speaking, the world couldn't handle it.

But then Kelly called. Said that she was in New York, needed a bail out. And how was Darcy supposed to refuse that? Of course she called back, to get told to meet Kelly and Annabelle at a Starbucks on 98th street. She shoved things in her purse and slid her shoes back on, having not even had the opportunity to change out of the business casual SHIELD appropriate office-wear that she had been dressed in all day.

She was living with the likes of Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, though, and secret agents could smell anxiousness. She managed to get out of the building undetected and down the street to the Starbucks, where she ordered a mocha and sat down to wait. It was only about ten minutes before Kelly Jones came breezing through the door, Annabelle Fritton on her heels. Kelly looked like the polished St. Trinian's girl that she always had been, neither emo nor chav nor geek nor posh tottie, and somehow a mixture of all of them—the perfect head girl. Her sleek, polished black hair was about shoulder-length now, and red lipstick adorned her lips, and an outfit that bore a startling resemblance to what she used to wear at St. Trinian's, despite the lack of the naughty schoolgirl look.

Annabelle looked like the girl that she had become at St. Trinian's, a different yet just-as-good head girl as Kelly had been. Annabelle had arrived at St. Trinian's too late to fall in with any of the cliques, which meant that all of them claimed her, and all of them held a piece of her. Annabelle's eyes were lined with dramatic dark liner, reminiscent of the emos. Her hair was a sleekly tamed wavy look that came directly from the posh totties. Lipstick just as dark and dramatic as Kelly's.

"Darcy," Kelly greeted, taking the chair across from her as Annabelle went to the counter to get drinks. Soon, Annabelle joined them as well.

"So, what's the what?" Darcy asked, taking a sip of her drink.

Kelly went to slide a folder to Darcy across the table, but stopped. "Darcy, this is serious."

"Yeah, I got that."

"No, really serious. The other girls, they're all in danger. And it's up to us to save them. But you could get into a lot of trouble for this. Your job—you could end up in jail."

"What about my job?"

"You work for one of those American alphabet soup agencies, don't you? SAW or CIA or KGB or something?" Kelly said aimlessly.

"SHIELD," Darcy said. "And seriously, SAW? That doesn't even exist, and the KGB were the Soviet Secret Police during the Cold War. For someone who does what you do, shouldn't you have better knowledge of the other people who do what you do?"

"I have admin people for that," Kelly said airily.

Darcy rolled her eyes. Sometimes, when she started missing St. Trinian's, she inadvertently channelled Chelsea Parker, too.

"So, what's the problem?"

"You know that most everyone are criminals in some capacity," Annabelle said.

Darcy thought about Polly's computer hacking business, Chloe's mercenary business (that was famous for doing anything, as long as you paid them enough), Celia's back door drug dealing business and paused. "Yeah, I know."

"Well, nobody's bringing down a St. Trinian's girl on my watch," Kelly said determinedly.

"Or mine," Annabelle added, always the mild accompaniment to Kelly's determination, but no less threatening for it.

"Or mine," Darcy said, thinking it through for all of four seconds, everything that this endeavour might cost her, before throwing her towel in with the girls. Once a St. Trinian's girl, always a St. Trinian's girl.