The interns huddled nervously by the supply cart, one of them whispering, “I think it’s fine if we just… grab the scalpels, right?”

From the couch, Pidge’s voice cut through the room without her even looking up from her book: “No one holds a scalpel until I’m so happy, I’m Mary quiznaking Poppins.”

The interns blinked. “...What?”

Finally, Pidge lowered her book, peering at them over her glasses with an unimpressed glare. “It means you touch the sharp stuff without me and you’ll regret it. Got it?”

One of them stammered, “Uh—yes, ma’am!” before scurrying off.

Pidge smirked and kicked her feet up on the table, muttering to herself, “Honestly. First-years. You’d think they’ve never seen a scalpel before.” Then she went right back to her book, satisfied she’d restored order with minimal effort.