1963-12-18 - Reporting In
Summary: Bobbi gets out of the hospital to give a report to Coulson
Related: http://marvel1963mush.wikidot.com/log:1963-12-17-clipped-wings
Theme Song: None
coulson bobbi 

"Of course, General." Coulson is seated at his desk with a telephone to his ear. Before him are five manilla folders, each of them marked with big red CLASSIFIED stamps, and a steno pad scribbled full of notes. "However, you must understand that our resources cannot be utilized in such a manner. All due respect, Sir, but we have bigger fish to fry." Another pause. "No, I am not willing to discuss this further." Another pause. "Very well then. Have a wonderful day."

All of this with a pleasant smile and a tone of voice that lacks aggression.


Bobbi entered the room on crutches. One leg was wrapped neatly in a cast and more than a few bandages could be seen peaking out from her clothes. Agent Morse was anything if not determinedly stubborn, and a broken fibula, bruised and or cracked ribs and a slight concussion had only halted her from coming in for the night that the Doctors demanded to keep her for observation.

Much assuredly to the annoyance of her nurses, she'd bitched and complained her way out of the hospital and onwards in a Shield escorted car back to the office. Skye had made it clear that she wasn't to inform Director Carter just yet, so here she was, dragging herself to Coulson's desk instead.

A clearing of her throat followed his hanging up on the phone, as if he could possibly miss the hobbled woman before him.

"Agent Morse reporting."


After setting the phone into its receiver, Coulson looks up to see Bobbi, and at the state of her condition, he frowns. "Agent Morse!" The folder is quickly shut, and he pushes the chair back, rising to his feet. An expression of concern is written clearly and honestly across his face, and he takes a moment to look a bit more closely at her injuries. "Goodness. What on Earth happened to you?"


A rough exhale followed, "What, Skye didn't share? She visited my hospital room last night. Thought the report would've gotten around." She made to sit in a chair, wincing as she shifted uncomfortably to set her crutches against his desk.

"I ran into the ghost that we've been tryin' to get eyes on. Tried to tail 'im but he caught onto it and got me in a bad way. Mother fucker can hit like a freight train." She pressed a hand against her temple, against the pounding that smacked up against her eyelids for all the good it would do.


"Skye's on assignment," Coulson answers. It's likely the report has gotten around, but, considering the files all over his desk, it would seem Phil just… hasn't gotten there yet. "Do you need anything? Coffee? Water?" Pause. "Aspirin?"

He listens intently, brow furrowing at word that she's found him. "'Bucky' Barnes." He speaks the name as if it was legend; indeed, everyone who fought with Captain Rogers in the war are legends. "Did you learn anything about his plans? His movements?" he asks with pointed intent.


A sigh, "Eh, they had me on who knows what in the hospital. I really don't need more painkillers. Thanks." She offered up a smile, see, Bobbi could be perfectly nice. Even with broken bones and being grumpy at the world for being hobbled.

"But yeah, Barnes. I tailed him from a small groucher in Hell's Kitchen and down a few blocks before he noticed. He was buying canned goods, but he didn't keep 'em. So he'll need supplies again. He went into an alley and got me by hiding under a pile of trash. He wasn't exactly in the talkative mood. Got a few shots in on him before he took off."

A faint wince followed that admittance and she leaned back in the chair. "So either I just messed up his plans for that assassination on the ambassador, or I just put more pressure on 'im to get it done. Regardless, he's injured. I dunno if the team that got sent in picked anything up though from the scene."


"I would suspect you've succeeded in both," Coulson admits, though there is no complaint in his tone. "But that's neither here nor there. Excellent work, Agent Morse; we now know that this is top priority. Thank goodness the attacks have ended."

The Senior Agent turns and walks back to his desk, sorting through some papers. "I want you to find Agent Fitz and Agent Sigrunsdottir. We need to be monitoring those gas lines under 4th Street, at once." Some of the files are sorted and locked into a drawer, while two of them and the steno pad are instead placed into a briefcase that sits near the floor. He lifts it, sets it upon the desk, then turns back to Bobbi and smiles.

"There's someone I need to visit."

The shades are perched over his eyes, and the briefcase lifted.


A grumble, softly at least, as Bobbi eyes him. "Any chance Fitz or Agent Siggy have something to put my bones back together any quicker? I want to be there when you take this bastard down Coulson. I don't think our more junior agents are up for the task. I got /lucky/ and I'm this banged up." She muttered, arching a brow upwards.


"Agent Morse?" Coulson turns back to her. "I am quite certain we will find a way to make you useful, in spite of this temporary setback." He offers a smile. "Don't you worry about that."

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