*WAS THAT —-* ?
THE COLD MARBLE FLOOR BENEATH HIS SHOES ARE A STEADY REFLECTION OF THE AGENT’S CURRENT MANNER. equally polished and put together— with not a single hair out of place— the present persona of one nathaniel donahue was a far cry from the ragged, volatile man that had been at the warehouse only a few weeks prior. the current stream of consciousness within nathaniel’s head was that of a dull mulling over the chock ton information that had just been presented to him.
[ “YOU ARE BEING ASSIGNED TO A JOINT MISSION BEING EXECUTED BETWEEN THE JOINT EFFORTS OF THE C.I.A AS WELL AS THAT OF S.H.I.E.L.D., DONAHUE. YOU AND ONE OF THEIR OWN AGENTS WILL BE WORKING TOGETHER IN COLLABORATION TO …” ] and the rest of the information following had been digestable enough, if not for the totally unacceptable fact (in nathaniel’s eyes) that he would be working with another.
NOW, AS THE C.I.A. AGENT SMOOTHED DOWN THE LAPELS OF HIS SUIT JACKET his handler and him finally reached where S.H.I.E.L.D.’s own two agents stood, and the raise of donahue’s head to gaze at his would - be partner left his mouth agape. & for the second time that day, the words of his handler (and of the other agent’s handler) were not grasped by the mental capacity of the agent. rather, he was occupied trying to silently communicate to the woman who stood before him in the most violent & loathsome manner as to what she was doing there. without moving any part of his face, though. which did not have much effect.
after what felt like an eternity, the handler’s left, leaving the two agents alone in the middle of the open - spaced center of the Central Intelligence Agency’s hub. inhaling sharply, suited chest rising before lowering quickly as he exhaled, nathaniel donahue finally allowed himself to speak in a hissed, seething tone. “W͟͟H͟͟A͟͟T͟͟ A͟͟R͟͟E͟͟ Y͟͟O͟͟U͟͟ D͟͟O͟͟I͟͟N͟͟G͟͟ H͟͟E͟͟R͟͟E͟͟?”
