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"Well, ma'am," Clint says, drily, "The best report is nothing *to* report." He's standing before her desk as if too restless to just sit down and converse like a grown up. "They've all been just as good as bunch of choirboys, and busy as little beavers in just the proper projects." Barton sounds sour about it. As if he were just longing to catch them out and have an excuse to do something. A chase, a fight, anything other than being perched up a tree like some kind of giant, heavily armed squirrel, waiting for them to put a foot wrong.
*
The woman sits quietly behind her desk which, though it seems nigh unto impossible, is piled with more paperwork than ever before. She also looks more *tired* that normal and, if he's being particularly observant, is wearing the same suit she was yesterday. It's been one of those weeks. She looks up to the man as he presents that report and exhales a slow breath. "I'll take it this week. Damn… Though, I suppose the first few weeks, everyone is going to be on their best behavior. Still… that's good news, right? No one even acting… Odd?" She asks with a lofted brow.
*
Clint lifts his hands in a gesture of warding. Perish the thought. "Not from what I know of 'em," he says, simply. "But psych profiles aside, I can't claim to know 'em well. Nothing overtly suspicious. I just can't shake the feeling I'm not seeing the whole picture." And that, by the furrow in his brow, worries him intensely.
*
The fact that she still sees the furrow in his brow, the worry behind his eyes, means she can't let them go slack on this yet. She sighs quietly, "…You are monitoring them from afar, yes? Maybe it's something small, something in their work. We need to get more of OUR scientists studying exactly what they are doing, but…" It's more resources. More headaches, more they divert from other things.
*
"Yes, ma'am," he affirms, hands behind his back in an unthinking parade rest. "That's the thing. We do need more of someone who knows. Who can catch the oddities there. I…." And it galls him to admit, clearly, "Just don't have the background. I can keep them from the obvious kinds of espionage. But…there I'm at sea."
*
"Clint." It's rare that she uses his first name, but she wants his full attention, his eyes, and there is something motherly edging her normally cold, professional director's tone. "It's alright. We don't expect you do. This is on all of us to make certain we have every kind of eye on it all. So.. take a breath. It's alright. I'm going to see if we can try to hire more in-house specialists to work with them. Do… do you want a break from guard duty, meanwhile? We can rotate others in."
*
It startles him, that's clear. Only a flash of surprise in the blue eyes, lips parted as if to begin a question. Then, something in him loosens, like a knot being untied. "I think," he says, with obvious reluctance, "I could use one. Yes. Guard duty…..it's easy to get dull. To miss what's in front of you." Apologetic, but also relieved.
*
The dark haired woman seems to understand. She nods quietly, and then she pulls out another folder from her desk and flips it in his direction. The mark across the top is TOP SECRET and with her name on it, so there might be a reason it was buried. She slides it in his direction. "We have another team being put together. Sousa is probably going to head up the organization but… right now, we're just trying to get through the data analysis. Nothing leaves this office unless you're speaking with others on this team, but.." Peggy breathes out quietly, "…Over the last several months, from what we can tell, no less than 15 nuclear devices have gone missing from US military bases. One was discovered yesterday which prompted the investigations which uncovered the other 14 missing assets."
*
The blood kind of falls out of his face, leaving him an unholy gray color. If it were anyone else, there'd be angry demands that she be joking. Instead, after a moment, he gives a descending whistle of dismay….inadvertantly and unpleasantly like the sound of a bomb falling, itself. "Jesus," he says. "Yeah. Put me on that, please."
*
"We…don't even know who to put up against a wall yet. These are multiple bases. We're currently cross referencing personnel files trying to figure out who went through all those bases but… that would imply it was all the same person. If it's a network of people…" Peggy exhales quiet and just shakes her head, motioning to the stacks of files on her desk that she's been trying to analyze since the news came last night. "…Pick a base. Tell me where you want to start. There's too much and too little itme." He's got the master file in front of him, detailing each base in brief and what asset has gone missing.
*
It's the most remote one he picks, indicating it mutely with the touch of a finger. The ante just got upped drastically, after all. "It has to've been more than one," he says, finally, looking up from the file with a kind of pleading expression. Like if he asks nicely, she'll make it all better.
*
Sadly, this isn't something mother or director Peggy can make better. It's just something she can work tirelessly to stop. She nods at his choice and sits forward in her chair, adding his name to a roster she's slowly begun to fill out with new assignments. "You'll fly out tomorrow. Do an entire inspection of the area. Question anyone who works anywhere near where the asset was lost… you know the drill. Double check their personnel clock in and outs… Go over the place with a fine toothed comb and report back by Monday with what you find. Call anything particularly remarkable in. I'd give you back up but… too many bases. Not enough people." Peggy admits softly, "And the airforce completely missed it happening under their noses, so… they aren't really cooperating."
*
Clint sucks his teeth at that, breath hissing in. "Yeah. Heads are gonna roll," he agrees, sounding a little brighter at the prospect of direct action. And then, trying for his usual cockiness, "That's just fine."
*
Peg then sits straighter, taking the master file back from him and, after a touch of digging between papers on her desk, pulling out that direct base's file. "Study up, Agent Barton. You're wheels up tomorrow morning. Dismissed." Peggy offers curtly. Maybe she could answer more questions, but her eyes are half cross and all of what they have so far is in the file. So, she gives him the tools he needs and lets him go on his way.