Obfuscate || Open
No more field missions, Melinda had said.
The problem with that logic wasn’t the idea that someone would recognize him -- it was that SHIELD was nothing without the Director at this point. Phil had taken necessary precautions, but the thought of him falling for any reason was enough to make the team that had worked closest with him, the BUS -- well, it made them nervous.
He was relatively sure that anyone who recognized him out and about would recognize SHIELD for the help they’d been during that meteor shower last week. Nor should they make the connection -- Phil had a forgettable face, and that was enough to get him by in days past. Still, it was enough to make him wary.
He dressed down, jeans and a t-shirt under a leather jacket with his mirrored aviators in place. They were specially crafted and would allow him to see people trying to blind side him. That was all the excuse he needed to wear them.
Never too late for caution.
Today he was trailing a known HYDRA operative. This was a part of a cell that was outside of contact with SHIELD directly, and were much more palatable to deal with.
It was easier to place people in boxes that way.
He paid for a cup of coffee at the corner stand, getting himself a croissant as well. His mark was thirty yards to his left, across the street and waiting for the bus. He crossed the street, his headphones in and not playing music, making it seem as if he were oblivious to the world around him under his Yankees hat.
As he crossed the road, someone bumped his arm, splashing coffee up his leg as he dropped the cup to the pavement.
Best to make a scene.
“Oh, god damn it. Watch where you’re going!” Phil snapped, his eyes narrowing behind mirrored frames. “You jackass!”