[ A Test of Skill / Closed ]
Agent Coulson had spent the fullness of a career in SHIELD learning the precise methodology behind approaching people. By this point, he knew virtually every kind, and had a better-than-decent bead on what one was liable to do in a given situation, with given environment, under given circumstances. Spycraft was a meticulous business, and he'd been under the tutelage of Nick Fury himself nearly since emerging from the Academy… and he would never have thought to ask for a different mentor.
But in the months following the Battle of New York, after his ostensible recovery from near death and then the frustrating stonewalling of his own investigation into what had truly happened… well, there was something to be said for not putting all his eggs into one basket. Another lesson learned from Fury -- the very man he was now attempting to circumvent.
Enter one Corinne Bailey. A barista to the eyes of the world… an occasionally useful asset in the eyes of SHIELD. A little bit tetchy, but for good reason, in his estimation; she had, after all, been fortunate to escape the whole Cross incident with her life. Anybody who came walking into her coffee shop that carried himself like he knew what he was doing was almost certainly going to get a suspicious look.
And that was only one element of the facade he would need to assemble. He would have to adopt a certain note of vulnerability, traveling beneath the waves of his ingrained self-confidence… not a shark slavering for a meal, but a dolphin seeking its pod. He would have to make a point of looking her in the eye and speaking softly, kindly. A little uncertainly, beyond the range of a SHIELD agent and more into the realm of 'just a guy looking for answers'.
Some thought had gone into his attire, as well, of course. He'd briefly considered donning civvies. It had become his impression that one could rarely go wrong in a hoodie. But that might offer her the wrong impression. If he was going to prostrate himself before her, it made less sense to do so outside the trappings of his employment, which had after all been the reason for his life continuing to this point in the first place. But he wasn't about to do it in a SHIELD vehicle. Lola was the way to go. Thus it was that he found a spot in a parking garage just down the block from the nondescript coffee shop that was Ms. Bailey's pride and joy.
When he passed through the front door, the sight that met Ms. Bailey and her staff assistants was that of someone who seemed to have taken the term "G-Man" and simply run with it to its most logical endpoint. A well-tailored dark gray suit, white shirt, gray silk tie, and aviator sunglasses which were tugged off his face with one hand, revealing hazel eyes with the faint crinkling of a squint not yet fully rendered away by the soft artifical lighting.
The moments that followed would be crucial in order for her to not try to rabbit out of the place. There were no other customers here just now, and that was a small mercy for everyone involved. Approaching with his badge and ID would be too aggressive a maneuver, and reaching into his pocket now might look like he was going for a weapon. No, best to order off the menu, toss her a little good faith as well as some business off the bat.
As he approached the counter, he offered a gentle smile and a nod of greeting. "Hi. I'd like to get a medium of today's special, and a ham and Swiss croissant, if you wouldn't mind?"
With context established, he was free to withdraw his billfold from his jacket… and along with the five twenty dollar bills he pressed to the countertop, his badge.
"And a few moments of your time, Ms. Bailey… when you have them to spare."
