“It must be the hair. It’s the hair, isn’t it?” She pulled a strand in front of her face and crossed her eyes at it. “Maybe I’ll dye it.” Putting the ID away, she awarded Fitz a sceptical look. “The Bus? Agent Coulson’s new team?”
“Oh. Righ’. Well,” he folded his arms and leaned forward on the table. “Going well, I s’ppose. Go’ a few good agens’. Agen’ Coulson’s a good leader. Is’ interesting work.” He shrugged before grabbing a Clorox disinfecting wipe and starting to wipe down some of the surfaces. He was, of course, making it sound miles above where it was actually at. But he figured mentioning any of the sheer dysfunction going on to a superior officer wouldn’t be a great idea.
Folding her arms, Summer watched him twitch over the table. “That’s good … there a reason why you aren’t telling me the whole truth?” She tilted her head to the side. “Would you rather talk about it somewhere else?” One hand indicated the lab. “I’m not asking about it just for gossip’s sake.”