"Two Inquisitors. And then there's the Warden-Commander," She leaned her elbows on the railing and looked down. She was hoping to see the slag from a bottlecap or a chip of glass caught on a ledge, but all evidence of any mess had been cleaned up with an enviable thoroughness, "When I offered my help, formally, I was under the impression that in the absence of any competition, everyone was considering Maxwell Trevelyan to be the uh... Default authority, more or less. What's the status, with you people?"

It's not as if she has anywhere else to turn, either-- the Avengers are too nebulous to call a fallback plan, and she can't even field a three-man squad. But there are still connections, information, something. She is not yet brought so low as to be considered tactically worthless.