agent_coulson | Working relationships

Phil Coulson was used to being woken up from a dead sleep. In fact, he'd basically stopped having "dead sleeps" anymore, after so many years of being on call and needing to be instantly alert at a moment's notice. He dozed more than he actually slept now.

So it wasn't a shock to hear his mobile ringing at 3am, but that didn't mean it was pleasant. His hand shot out automatically, pushing the button to answer the call even before he was fully awake. By the time it reached his ear, he'd opened his eyes and the beginning of a silent hope was already forming in his head: that maybe this would be something needing his authorization, or a question from a junior agent, or--hell, even a question from Fury himself, anything to let him go back to sleep after the call ended.

Of course that was a pipe dream. He listened carefully as the threat was described to him: two speedsters, shooting some kind of unidentified beam, in Newark. Destruction to property. Civilian lives at risk. General chaos.

It made sense, really. Of all the places he least desired to be, New Jersey at 3 in the morning on a Saturday was pretty close to the top of the list.

He sighed, and sat up, swinging off the bed to head for the closet. "I'll be there in twenty minutes. Call whoever's up on the roster, at least a Level 2. I don't want to be there all morning." With that, he snapped the phone shut, grabbed a suit off the rack, and made a beeline for the kitchen--if he was going to deal with this, he wasn't going to do it without coffee.

Threaded | Flat

It was fortunate for her phone that it was currently in her jeans discarded on the floor, and not beside her on the nightstand. Otherwise, it would likely be a pile of broken shards of plastic and metal, if the glare she shot the crumpled material was anything to go by. Grumbling, she pushed herself out of her warm, cozy bed and stumbled over to pick up her jeans, answering with a sharp, "What?"

Of course. Not a friend with good news or a wrong number that she could ignore and crawl back into bed after. No. It was a mission. Dammit. The only perk was who she'd have to report to in the field. Well, it appears the two of them would be meeting up sooner rather than later, after all.

Hanging up with an affirmative that she'd be there, she went to her own closet to pull on her uniform. They were really taking this 'no rest for the wicked' saying a bit too literally.

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