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[001; video]
[When the video feed clicks on, anyone paying attention will be treated to the image of a man who looks wildly uncomfortable. He's dressed in local clothes—his options were change into the garb generously offered or sit in the bloody, wet suit that just happened to be his favorite and is now instead draped across the back of his chair and probably ruined forever along with most of his other stuff—and is wearing an expression that's a curious mix of frustrated and tired and dazed. Like he knows what's going on, but can't quite believe it.
He rubs his face before speaking, shoulders rising and falling with an inaudible sigh. Without fully raising his gaze to meet the camera, he says:]
My name is Phil Coulson. I just—
[He hesitates, thinking. How is he supposed to approach this? "Hi, I just died, it's nice to meet you all here in this afterlife I wasn't expecting?" Bright blue eyes flicker toward the keyboard, then dart back up, this time focusing directly on the lens.]
I arrived here a little while ago.
[And there it is, the versatile, thin-lipped little smile that those who know him already know so well. This time, it's meant to convey something akin to appreciation toward those who helped him, but it looks a bit pained. He's not sure he can help that.
Because, you know, his back is killing him. Pun completely intended.]
Just thought I would say hello.
He rubs his face before speaking, shoulders rising and falling with an inaudible sigh. Without fully raising his gaze to meet the camera, he says:]
My name is Phil Coulson. I just—
[He hesitates, thinking. How is he supposed to approach this? "Hi, I just died, it's nice to meet you all here in this afterlife I wasn't expecting?" Bright blue eyes flicker toward the keyboard, then dart back up, this time focusing directly on the lens.]
I arrived here a little while ago.
[And there it is, the versatile, thin-lipped little smile that those who know him already know so well. This time, it's meant to convey something akin to appreciation toward those who helped him, but it looks a bit pained. He's not sure he can help that.
Because, you know, his back is killing him. Pun completely intended.]
Just thought I would say hello.
no subject
She goes by sound when she turns her free hand to seize the flat of the table and wrench it out of Coulson's grip.
His improvised weapon gets thrown over her shoulder as she reverses her grip on the knife, face still empty of empathy or aggravation.]
no subject
He looks over at Coulson and gives him a nod--thank you for being alive, sorry about the wreck in your apartment. And then he turns back to Triela. )
Hey, kid. Look at me.
no subject
There's outward sign that she recognizes him, but she's at least unmoving.]
no subject
—and just like that, before he can even take a full breath, Triela's tacked to the wall and Clint's nodding at him and he's just going to go over to a chair and sit down before his knees give.
It's been a long time since he's felt this shaken.
Once he's in the chair, he sets his head down in his hands and starts counting breaths. Clint can handle this. All of it. In fact, Phil's not even sure he wants to speak to either of them—certainly not Triela—until the world stops threatening to twist out from under his feet.
So it might be a while.]
no subject
He snaps in front of her face. )
Hello? Anyone in there?
no subject
It's not hard for her to figure out what happened, based on the damage and the demeanor of those involved. Triela closes her eyes and leans back against the wall.] You should probably take my gun, signore. And my knives.
[There's little point to apologies, as far as she's concerned.]