It's also why not tearing off on your own and giving your immediate superior approximately five coronaries is a fantastic thing, semi-immortal Russian superspy or no semi-immortal Russian superspy. But anyway.
"Well, he is Australian."
It's a remark that really should earn the American a personalised lightning-bolt from the god of nationalistic pot-calling-the-kettle-black, but this once the deity is merciful.
(It's almost as if they have the gods on side these days, or something...)
The second set of guards are avoided easily enough, and the third is represented by just one man, albeit one (caucasian, early thirties, almost certainly a steroid user) approximately the size of three - or just the size of one Norse god of thunder, which is another way of putting it. The guy is standing impassive in front of a very interesting-looking door, and even in the poor light Coulson can see a face that's born to hench and do very little else.
no subject
"Well, he is Australian."
It's a remark that really should earn the American a personalised lightning-bolt from the god of nationalistic pot-calling-the-kettle-black, but this once the deity is merciful.
(It's almost as if they have the gods on side these days, or something...)
The second set of guards are avoided easily enough, and the third is represented by just one man, albeit one (caucasian, early thirties, almost certainly a steroid user) approximately the size of three - or just the size of one Norse god of thunder, which is another way of putting it. The guy is standing impassive in front of a very interesting-looking door, and even in the poor light Coulson can see a face that's born to hench and do very little else.
He glances at Nat. You or me?
Or, which would be more entertaining?