1963-11-28 - Staff Meeting
Summary: Just a routine staff meeting at SHIELD headquarters, wherein plans for a prison capable of holding powered individuals is revealed.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
bobbi wanda heather dugan peggy sousa clint liv ava 


The SHIELD conference room contains a long table with many chairs around it and at the head of the table, Peggy stands in her smartest well-tailored suit. Her hands rest on her hips as she surveys the room, waiting for people to enter the space. Coffee has already been set out on the table adjacent to the conference table, and also seems to hold an array of snacks. Evidently the spread is an important part of the meeting and was not to be overlooked.

Peggy's expression edges on severe as she surveys the room. Once everyone has settled, she claps her hands together loudly. "Good show, people. I know the last couple weeks have been trying for the best of us in this office and beyond, and it's shown… your efforts are noted and appreciated," she relays in a clipped British accent. "That said, I'm sure you're aware we find ourselves in a precarious position."

*

Liv Sigrunsdottir is among the first to arrive. Still somewhat freshly returned from the mission to Turkey, the suit-clad blonde looks somewhat troubled as she makes her way into the conference room and offers Peggy a polite nod on her way to a chair. No coffee or snacks for the Asgardian. Something must be bothering her. Perhaps it's related to why she has no brought her armor in for inspection yet.

*

Timothy "Dum-Dum" Dugan is already there, leaning back in a chair — trying not to put his foot up on the table (he keeps twitching). The man appears relatively well — at least, the moustache is — but his torso is completely bandaged up, as is his left arm.

Noticing Liv as she enters he lifts his chin in greeting, and motions to a seat.

*

Heather is present but quiet, as she usually is when Peggy is running a meeting — until Peggy asks her for her opinion. She's Peggy's shadow around the office most days, a small red-headed whirlwind of organization. Most people know to get out of the way when she gets going. Now, she's alternating between taking notes and making sure everyone has access to the information dossiers that have been prepared for the meeting.

*

Barbara "Bobbi" Morse, Agent 19, entered the conference room at ease and dressed much in the way she had before when she'd given her report to the Director. Her uniform in perfect form, hair pulled back into a ponytail and a friendly smile on her lips as she helped herself to snacks and coffee. Still, she didn't particularly make attempts to be social, settling in rather at a seat somewhere near what served as the 'front' of the room.

She flashed Peggy a smile, followed by a glance offered toward Liv and Dugan briefly. Then her gaze moved toward the papers being spread out for each agent in turn, blue eyes critcally flipping through what was on offer.

*

Miss Independence, stage right, does not wear a suit. It's not insolence or an act of youthful defiance; the younger Maximoff twin simply does not own such a garment. So claret leather duster corseted over dark pants and polished leather boots it is, along with a jauntily presented multipass identification card as necessary to bypsas various security measures. Wanda hardly constitutes at ease, but her gait has an unquestionably predatory quality, the deliberate way of placing her steps and regarding the world that's rather akin to a snow leopard sizing up a herd of alpine deer for dinner. Hopefully she isn't hungry. Seating herself out of the way, in absence of Carol being about to hide behind, gives her a clear shot to the door.

*

Sousa has fixed himself a cup of coffee as well as a small plate of snacks which is carefully brought over to the table. His crutch is set on the floor next to his seat, tucked under so that folks don't trip over it, and he sits with a tired sigh. He looks about the table; he hasn't actually met most of those gathered, but that can be rectified. Their dossiers and whatever information inside that was made available to him, -has- been read, so he just needs to match the name with the face.

*

For his part, Clint is slouched in one of the chairs, doing his best to remain unnoticed what with his whole sunglasses on and the way he has a hand curled around the base of a glass of water. He is the picture of nonchalance and reserved manner, not really looking at anyone else for the moment. Occasionally, on the high points, he'll sip his water. Though never twice within the same minute.

*

Instead of remaining at her hips, Peggy's arms cross over her chest. Everything about her body and expression tightens as she inspects her staff; something isn't sitting right with Director Carter, especially as she regards Liv. Her weight shifts from one foot to the other, and she turns to face a table at the front of the room. A folder is tossed onto the table — a clear indication that someone should open it.

"Yesterday a team of our people discovered a weapons repository in Turkey," she points towards the folder. "The pictures indicate what was recovered…" should someone open the folder, they'll be subject to a series of photos of some bright blue crystal, and weapons that emit a strange blue glow. "We believe it's alien in origin and preliminary analysis suggests that it emits a level of energy not available on earth." Her eyes darken and she pauses as her gaze flits between those agents that had been on the mission. "For those of you on this recovery team… mission report." Her jaw tightens and her lips purse she's terribly unhappy about something.

*

With a small smile, Liv returns the uptick of Dugan's chin with one of her own and settles into the chair next to him. Since the meeting is underway, she doesn't say anything to him, but she does give him a rather friendly, carefully measured smack on his (unbandaged!) arm with the back of one hand. Friends!

But then she's turning her attention to Peggy, and that warmth that had come to Liv's face drains away. She leaves the folder where it is — she was there, after all — and casts a slightly uncertain look towards Heather before quietly clearing her throat.

"I am still not terribly good at formal reports. Forgive me," Liv says a touch awkwardly, running a hand back over her hair. "But that assumption that it is alien is… probably a safe one. The sentries we encountered upon entering the Mosque were originally built by a race known as the Kree," she explains, her brow furrowing. "But they had been changed. They hit too hard, the faces were all wrong."

*

Dugan grumbles aloud.

"I can tell ya their weapons pack a hell of a punch… but also whatever code those dang-blasted robots're usin' ta talk to each other… I can't make sense of it."

He folds his arms over his chest and immediately winces.

Arms go back to his sides.

"But it's stuck in my head 'n drivin' me loopy as a raccoon on caffeine 'n Dr. Pepper."

*

The blonde makes no attempt to hide her interest, reaching out a hand to snag the fold before others did, seated as she was near the 'front' of the conference table near to Peggy. Blue eyes narrow as she glanced over the contents of the folder, making no attempts to hide her expression of intense interest as she flipped through several of the photos in question before politely passing off the ones she'd seen to the next curious soul.

Then her attention shifted toward the Asgardian in their ranks, eyeing Liv with same critical look, a hand propping up her chin. Followed by her focused attention onto Dugan. Then Bobbi broke the stare in favor of her coffee.

*

Heather opens the folder and quickly distributes the photographs so they can easily be seen.

"After removing our 'expert' and our medic from the immediate vicinity, I took advantage of the sentinel's distraction and entered the open stairway in the floor of the Hagia Sophia. Our expert did note, before he was forced to withdraw — " Okay, he was knocked out and forcibly removed but Heather is going to gloss that over.

" — that this was not in any historical records. I entered the laboratory area to find that someone had recently left by another door. Unable to pursue them with any certainty, I returned to the laboratory and used protective gear I found to secure the main power source." She sits back down in her chair and takes a few more notes.

*

Ava is a shadow leaning against the back wall, arms crossed over her chest as she listens to the reports. She's just a junior agent, no need to draw any of the heat, right?

*

Clint's of like mind as Ava, though he does pay attention. He looks in turn to each speaker as they advance information, data for him to absorb. No need for conjecture from him yet, nor does he presume to have any input to give.

*

Wanda knows better than to interrupt a report. She settles in silence, legs crossed casually. As casually as one can recline in a corset, at any rate. Eventually a pointed look goes for the nearest thing to a photograph, surveying what she can from her current post. Maybe she's translating everything back into her native language; the moment she speaks up, it's waving an 'I'm not American or English' flag for all and sundry.

*

Sousa also takes some notes and glances at the photographs as they pass by him. He then looks over to Peggy as she offers some explanation, and he looks to those who were on the mission.

*

"Research and development has already reported that the energy source, that crystal… is like nothing they've seen. It has untapped power and potential that our researchers have never realized." Peggy frowns.

Her gaze moves to those in the mission party. "Injuries?" while the word could be said with indistinct curiosity, Peggy's tone hinges on exasperation or, perhaps, annoyance. Her arms tighten over her chest and she paces the front of the room. "It's becoming ever apparent that we are out of our league. How is it we didn't have intel on the President's assassination before it happened?" she hisses quietly. "And I am not accustomed to my people being so ill-equipped."

"Between the alien death in the middle of Sanders' speech, the President's murder," call a spade a spade, "and Loki's apparent arrest, we are not prepared for what currently face." Her chin drops and her gaze trains on the floor. "And I am damned tired of being ill-prepared."

*

At least Clint has the self-awareness to look a bit uncomfortable as he lifts a hand to scritch at the back of his neck thoughtfully, then looks askance towards some of the other agents. His eyebrows lift a bit in all the form of commentary he's likely to offer on the admonishment, but then suddenly his glass of water is more interesting. He sips.

*

The question of injuries has Liv immediately looking to Dugan with a wry smile, but she'll let him make a detailed accounting for the damage. As for herself: "Nothing serious, on my end," she murmurs, looking towards Peggy again. She falls quiet to let the others add their two cents.

Only after that does Liv speak up again, and she looks almost reluctant to do so. "Have you made any progress on getting access to Loki, Director?" she asks, one eye squinting slightly in a wince. "I don't know how much it's worth coming from me, but I find it very doubtful he was involved in the assassination. He's arrogant and expressed himself incredibly poorly on Sullivan's program, but he is not stupid. Asgard gains nothing from this."

*

Heather waits for someone else to fall on that grenade before she speaks. Ah, good. Not her. Thank you, Liv. She can draw fire with some alternate input. "We did find considerable technology that looks like weaponry, and we have the remains of the sentinels. Yes, we're behind, but with a large enough technical team, we'll begin to make up ground. Do we have any connection with this new Act-F program that's been announced?" If they do, she doesn't know about it.

*

Ava's injuries are limited to various scratches across her face, but given the girl's usual conduct, that's a step up on how she looks any other day of the week. She doesn't look particularly embarrassed at Peggy's chiding, either. She does, however, look around the room a little more intently.

*

A curious tap on her chin and Bobbi, folds her hands beneath her chin, staring still at the photos being distributed down the table. Then she shifts, pulling a pen from the center of the table and starts to jot down various bullet points. Yet she otherwise held her tongue, allowing the others in the room to have their piece. A glance spared for Peggy as the woman addresses the room at large and she grimaces faintly.

Still, Bobbi kept quiet. Better than to try to answer the unanswerable.

*

The elder agents lead by example. Do not stare down that frightening director in high dudgeon fueled by pregnancy hormones, and say nothing. Let the Asgardian person speculate. Pity that young people tend to blow right past all the helpful flags and warning signs, unless they're ten feet tall, neon red, and accompanied by a deranged calliope plugged into forty concert-grade speakers. Her delicate fingers idly curl, pinkie extended, thumb crooked over her second knuckle, and faint strands emerge from the faintest nebulous glimmer. "May I look at the crystals? These," a gesture at the photographs, "do not have enough detail. They are not moving." Another curve back and the trailing filaments evaporate into translucent iridescence, winking out. "You," she lacks the right name for Liv, so apologetically glances her way, "say these sentries? They are built by Kree, but had faces that were wrong. How?" The words are clipped and short, not rude, merely reflective. "What are the Kree? Nature, origin, type?"

*

"Because we've grown too fast and aren't prepared or even trained to use the assets we now have," Sousa offers quietly, looking at his notepad before taking a breath and looking over at Peggy. He's going to get it later, but it's a valid question and as one who is a little more on the outside, he's going offer his views.

Standing, he moves to lean his forearms across the back of his chair, "We've become something new just in the last year…and we weren't prepared. We couldn't be, and adapting isn't an easy thing in an organization like this." Especially with all the 'Good ol' boys' from the beginning still involved. "So you're right when you say we're out of our league. Right now. It just means we have to decide which league we're going to be playing in."

There's a glance to Liv and Heather, "Is there proof that the Asgardians had anything to do with this? If there is, then it's just more fuel to add to the 'us versus them' sentiment that's been growing. If there's just speculation, we can use that."

He then quiets as there are questions about the aliens…it may illustrate his point, actually.

*

"Your thoughts are duly noted," Peggy offers with a hint of severity towards Liv. "The motivations and terror that the Prince of Asgard felt appropriate to unless on the American people leaves questions as to the Asgardians' motivations, Agent Sigrunsdottir." Her hands drop from her chest and clasp together tightly behind her back.

"Certainly, Agent Maximoff… we would need to talk to research and development. Currently, one of our sister sites is investigating the materials. They will be shipped here in due time." Her head ticks to the side.

Sousa's thoughts first earn a narrowing of Peggy's eyes followed by a clearing of her throat. "We do, indeed, need proof one way or another. And, so far our connections to Act-F are weak."

Heather earns a sharp nod. "Yes. You're correct. The technology we've recovered will aid us considerably… especially in light of our latest mandate," evidently some kind of order came from on high. She walks to the front table again and retrieves another folder that is tossed onto the top of the table. Again, there's a vague indication that someone should open it.

If someone should open the folder, they'll encounter rudimentary architectural drawings for a building, apparently located on Governor's Island, under which appears to be a holding cell of some fashion.

*

Dugan grunts.

"Gimme some time ta sort out this code in my noggin — ," and he taps his skull between his eyes. " — an' I jus' might be able ta help with train' our boys — ahem, 'n girls — how ta handle these… things." The big man looks over at Peggy and Sousa and adds:

"Feels awful like runnin' into combat with my trousers 'round my ankles — ain' no one gon' bring up that op in Germany '42. Aw, goshdarnit. I jus' did…"

*

A token gesture is made to peruse the information, but Clint tends to gather his data together and think about it when he has some time to himself. He does consider it for a moment, frowning as he pulls his glasses down the bridge of his nose slightly. He does look a bit haggard, probably a rough couple of nights, but it's not the worst meeting he's been at. At least he's staying conscious.

*

With a resigned twist of her lips, Liv nods once to Peggy. About what she had figured. But then she turns in her seat enough to regard Wanda, actually offering her a small smile — no offense taken at the inspecific address, clearly.

"I'm far from an expert," Liv notes, holding up one hand. "But the Kree would fall under the 'alien' category. An old, old empire. I would reach out to Act-F and see if anyone there has anything more specific, if we could," she says, inclining her head towards Heather and Sousa in turn. "But the faces on the sentries… the noses and ears were wrong. Much too long. Kree tend to look much more human." She pauses. "…aside from. You know. Being blue."

Liv settles back in her chair and loosely folds her arms, with a very slight grimace as she gets comfortable.

*

"If you'd like, Director, I'll open up some communication with Act-F, see if we can't come to some kind of mutually beneficial interface — knowledge sharing." Heather retrieves the folder and scans the contents, standing at her place while she does so.

"Containment facility?" She glances at Peggy, her expression a little uncertain, then places the plans on the table where the others can view them at their leisure. "This is part of the response to the multi-faceted alien threat? Makes sense, I suppose, yes. We need to expand all our facilities and resources to meet the new problems we face. How will it be different from anything else we have on offer, internationally or here at the federal level?"

*

"Are we police, soldiers, or spies?" Ava nods to Sousa when he brings up his view on the problem. "I think perhaps sometimes we are not enough spies. If we want information, then we must infiltrate. Loki lives here. Does someone do his dry cleaning? Does he have a regular post man? A restaurant where he likes to eat? A cart he buys his morning coffee from? What is different about these…Kree? What resources would they need to live here? What do their ships run on? Where would they get whatever they run on? Just because they are gods and aliens does not mean they exist on air and fairy dust." Or so says the Russian. "If we follow the breadcrumbs, we will be prepared."

*

Details soaked up like a sponge give Wanda a surprisingly youthful look. "You know something. It is a start. Blue aliens who make bad copies of humans. An ancient empire here long enough to copy us and put these sentries into a busy building in Istanbul. The lab could be as old as… Iustinian." Pronunciation of the name is off, at least to English accustomed ears. Then it all probabily is. Her set features resemble nothing so much as a student digging into a particularly difficult exam question. The payoff? Life or death.

Getting up from her seat to see whatever was tossed on the table is her way of sticking her head in the proverbial lion's mouth. Her stalking gait puts her adjacent to Heather, a glance over at the folder in question. One of the folders end up pulled her way if someone will pass one down, and she flicks through the assorted pages. Going back to detail any photographs, she nods vaguely at Ava's questions. "Do the Kree act together or in small groups? Do they know about one another? Is someone telling them what to do, or they decide by themselves? An old diktat to guide them? How do they talk to one another, do their… sentries… know about them?"

*

"Right…" Sousa offers quietly before he limps back around the chair to sit. The coffee is lifted to his lips and he takes the pen in his other hand before he just taps it on the notepad and focuses on the coffee, cookie, and discussion.

*

"Good question," Peggy points to Heather. "This facility will be powered by what you recovered in Turkey." Her eyebrows lift pointedly. "SHIELD is moving some of its agents around to accommodate its construction. We are highly invested in making this facility work. As it stands, our engineers believe they can design a facility that could hold any super powered or alien person." Her gaze flits to Heather and she manages a nod. "Please do get in touch with Act-F and see if we can't get our people inside."

A tight smile is issued to Ava, but she offers no real comment. Instead, she finally accepts a chair at the front of the room and sits down to listen to the chatter.

*

Glancing at Ava, Clint offers some small bit of insight. "Some of these things don't hit the conventional triggers we're used to grabbin'." When eye contact is established he'll gesture towards Peggy, "The Asgard people operate on a pretty broad time table and can have things set up for ages, makes it hard to sniff them out. Now we got some identified it'll be easier. But who knows what others are runnin' around out there lying low like Liv."

There's a pause, then he gives her a nod. "No offense."

*

Liv smiles across towards Clint, and her voice is warm despite some lingering tightness around her eyes. "None taken. That's certainly fair." Her gaze flits between Ava and Wanda, but either she's taking their questions on the Kree as hypotheticals or has no answer to provide. Silent, she lets her gaze drift over to the file, but remains leant back in her seat.

Hesitantly, Liv murmurs, "I do not know how wise it is to rely upon a power source we know so little about," without lifting her eyes from the file. She looks, and sounds, troubled.

*

Getting people into Act-F is not the same as opening lines of communication. That's not collaboration, that's infiltration. It takes a huge amount of resources as opposed to a mutually beneficial share and share alike arrangement. Still, all she says is, "Yes, Director," as she makes notes to do exactly as she was told.

"I'll be following up on the specifics of the combat at the Hagia for you," Heather continues. "So we have a better understanding of exactly what led to our success in suppressing the sentinels. We have agents interviewing locals, trying to identify the person who eluded us. I'll review the alterations to the sentinels with Agent Sigrunsdotter so that we understand the deviation from the original technology — perhaps we'll be able to track that to the persons who made those alterations. I'll also make sure Agent Dugan has any resources he needs regarding understanding and processing the code he mentioned accessing. Hopefully that will yield something we can use going forward."

*

"Isn't that how all investigation works?" Ava furrows her brows at Clint. "You never know everything you're going to find when you start. But you pick a thread, and you pull on it. We have a thread. Two threads," she adds with a nod to Liv. "So we pull." She shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans back against the wall. Alien prisons are one thing. Prisons for powered people? She tilts her head, giving Peggy a long look without saying anything. Powered people were supposed to be safe here. Now there is a prison. In Russia, you don't ask about the prison unless you want to see it for yourself.

*

Wanda's expression tells nothing. She retreats back towards her seat and eyes it, then slips around it instead. Easier to lean against the wall and listen to the others talk.

*

Sousa also continues to listen, but has nothing to add. He's writing notes down, perhaps about what is being discussed, perhaps he's making notes abbout other thoughts.

*

A slightly cooler frown crosses Peggy's lips as Ava keeps pushing at that button, even when the director initially ignored the question. "Yes. We pull. But when we actually manage to uncover something and we need to *get control* of these things, if we aren't prepared to actually capture and keep them under control, then we have no cards in our hand. They will just call our bluff. We will either have to murder them, or have nothing to hold against them to protect our own people. So… we need this. It is our hole card. It ensures that the human population cannot be pushed around by any of these creatures, alien or otherwise. Just like regular humans have prisons, we need a deterant against aliens committing vicious crimes on our planet."

Peggy had been content to sit back and relax, but now that she's speaking about it all she's been fired up again. She seems quite serious about this initiative, despite concerns. "Construction has already begun. This isn't really a debate, it's to inform you all that we are giving SHIELD another tool with which to protect this world. I trust you all to use it wisely."

*

Clint, for his part, sort of gives Ava a nod and says lower in volume. "Stop by my desk later, I'll explain what I mean." And ever laconic he falls silent after that, slouching further into his seat and once again taking a sip of water.

*

As Peggy lays out the explanation for the prison, Liv's eyes drift over to watch Ava. It is probably little surprise that the Asgardian seems ill-at-ease with all of this, with one of her own a suspect in Kennedy's assassination… but it isn't until Peggy's final remarks that Liv looks anything but resigned. Now when she looks back towards the director, she actually looks alarmed, and a touch pained.

"Please understand, I am not arguing the need for adequate prisons," Liv says quickly, her brow furrowing. "But using that crystal without understanding it is — "

*

ROLL: Wanda +rolls 1d100 for a result of: 69

*

Under the table, discreetly, Heather steps on Liv's foot. "I'm certain that by the time we need it in place, Agent, our scientists will have a full grasp of its capacity. I'll make note of your concerns, especially if there's anything specific." She's brisk and unperturbed.

"The Director is correct — if Loki had been uncooperative, if we had any significant number of alien assets in hand, we would be at a loss. We should be considering adjustments to our present holding facilities in the meantime." She makes another note. "If anyone else has any concerns, they can bring them to me and I'll assemble an information packet for the Director. As she says, construction is already underway."

*

Ava has nothing more to say, it seems. Not with prisons on the table. She's back to blending in with the wall, giving no sign that she's even heard Clint's quiet words. After all, organizing is just another form of rebellion, isn't it?

*

Wanda, leaning against the wall, folds her arm crosswise over her leather-clad body, fingers cupped around her opposite elbow. Bleeding crimson, crushed poppies mixed into a good shiraz wine, define the vertical line of her forearm against the underpinning black shirt. Examining her nails intently while the others talk arguably right over her head speaks to a distracted air. Right until the incarnadine glitter fringes her pupils, a living, luminous ring that isn't natural, no more than the earlier strands of light pulled out of nowhere are. She stops daydreaming at the lingering silence. "There is an English expression. Do not take out a gun unless you want to use it, yes?" This is shot at Clint. He's fairly close, and no doubt everyone else can hear it if they want to. "Is that what it means when an uncooperative person like that Loki could take your alien assets and use them on you. Because you do not use the gun right. Yes?" An expectant pause follows.

*

Sousa points his pen at Liv, "I'm actually in agreement with her. Have you discussed any of this with…one of the Starks, at least? Can they figure this thing out? And do you really want it in the hands of some of the scientists here?" She knows the ones he means. He also looks to Wanda and nods his agreement.

When Heather speaks up, he inclines his head and looks at her for a long minute. Dark eyes then turn to look at Peggy before he pushes his seat back and leans down to retrieve his crutch. The pen is tucked into a pocket and the notebook is tucked under an arm before he stands. "Excuse me."

*

Heather's supportive words gain her a long, thankful look from Peggy. At least someone was seeing the light. She stares hard at the rest of the room, suppressing the surprise that not everyone here is in full agreement with her. Yes, she's encouraged her agents to think independently. She just didn't expect it to happen TONIGHT. She gives Liv and Sousa a bit of a grimacing glare (her own husband!) and shakes her head slightly, "Construction. Not finalized. And no, we are not letting *those* scientists anywhere near it. I'm not that bloody crazy. We have our best working on it. I'll see if we can get Tony in on the final study."

Then Wanda is given a leveled look and Peggy's shoulders straighten, "I am confident that by the time the facility is finished being built, we will understand the power we have in our hands are will be best able to use it to protect earth and it's people. That is the plan on the table. If there are no more constructive statements, you all have your files to study at home. You are dismissed."

*

As he gains his feet, Clint gives Wanda a small wave of one hand as if to say that yeah that might be what he meant, but he's not of the mind to elaborate on it further in the moment. So once he's standing he pushes his chair back under the table, slides his hands into the pockets of his pants and starts to shuffle on his way towards the door.

*

Let the record show that when tiny little Heather MacNeil steps on Liv Sigrunsdottir's foot, the Asgardian shuts up. Some things are universal. She gives the redhead a vaguely plaintive look but remains silent, not even speaking up when Sousa voices his support of her concerns. It does earn the man a look of gratitude from her, however. At least someone is open to caution.

…and then they're dismissed. Liv stays put for the moment, arms still folded across her chest.

*

Heather gives Sousa a very neutral smile and pats Liv's arm before she rises.

"You all know where to find me if you need me." She collects her notes and begins to gather up the materials on the table. "I'm taking volunteers to make plans for Christmas here, by they way. Let me know if you'd like to help out or have any ideas."

*

Ava pushes off the wall as people start to filter out, falling into the crowd to make her own way out of the office. Prisons. Things to think about.

*

Wanda meets that gaze from Peggy without flinching or recoiling. She turns her head towards the door as they are dismissed, and lightly heads that way without a word.

*

Sousa may be waiting just outside for his wife. She is, after all, his ride home unless she's planning on staying late at the office.

*

While Liv isn't turning to go, Peggy's brows arch quietly. "We are done here, Agent. Don't you all have lives?" Speaking of, she then looks back to her husband, "I'm going to get a few things from the office and I'll drive us home tonight, dear." She clips out, trying to be warm about it, but she's frustrated and stressed. It rather clearly shows in her words.

*

The Asgardian makes a noncommital noise in response to that question, but it is enough to get Liv shifting to rise from her seat, albeit slowly and with a tightly schooled expression. She draws in a deep breath before lightly nudging Heather in the arm, then starts for the door. "Come. The sentries," she murmurs lowly. "While it is still fresh."

*

"Coming. I've been wanting to talk to you about this," Heather says cheerfully, following along. "Director," she says to Peggy on her way out. "I'll have the minutes on your desk in the morning. Have a good night."

*

"Let me get my coat," Sousa offers as he waits for the other women to step out before he follows. He'll leave the notepad at his desk but he'll take another from one of the drawers and add it to his briefcase before preparing to meet Peggy once she's ready. His own demeanor is pretty guarded, not very typical for the older agent.

*

"…And Sigrunsdottir… I expect that armor in the lab tomorrow morning. 9 am." Peggy calls from her office, over her shoulder. No, it did not go missed that the armor wasn't there yet. After that commentary, she's got her own coat and is stepping back out into the front room. She gives a nod to her husband and leads the way to the under ground garage where her Aston Martin is normally parked. For once, the Director seems quite ready to go home at a sane hour.

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