A small smirk breaks out on his face, big enough that I can see it in the dim, dusk light. 
                          
"Yes, you got me there," he sighs, leaning back in to his chair. 
                          
"I didn't lose my eye beating around the bush, Agent. So let's cut to the chase." He crosses his arms, staring at me intently. I don't break. He can go first. He can tell me what he wants.
                          
The tension is palpable in the room- two unwilling people waiting for the other to fold. 
                          
I hear feet on the front steps and voices in conversation. 
                          
I sit back in my chair, cross my legs, lift my chin, and wait for the others to walk in.  
                          
Stark walks in first, followed by the Captain. As if by some sort of fate, both Banner and the Widow walk down the stairs at the exact same moment. Suddenly, the conversation stops as they all simultaneously lay their eyes on the man sitting across from me. 
                          
"Nick," Tony rolls his eyes as the old director, "you really know how to not make an entrance."
                          
He plops himself down on the couch next to me. I almost slide in the opposite direction, unsure of what do to with his casual presence. 
                          
He turns to the others, his face contorted in exasperation. 
                          
"What's with these people, oh I don't know, not telling us anything?"
                          
Rogers is less busied with formalities and cuts to the chase. His voice is low and sturdy as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall.
                          
"Why are you here, Nick?"
                          
"Well, funny you should ask that, Cap," his voice still calm despite his now tense demeanor. "Something strange came up on my radar the other day; something about this crazy smart robot who fancies himself a god and wants to rule over the world."
                          
He raises a single eyebrow, surveying the room again. 
                          
"Now, initially I was thinking about that dumbass Asgardian punk, but then I heard a little bit more," his voice gets lower and more gravelly. 
                          
"He's been taking down servers all around the world, invading laboratories, and creating himself, and overall bein' a real pain in my side. Now, I can only think of one person smart enough, and stupid enough, to create that."
                          
His eyes stop moving and focus on the man to my left. 
                          
Stark raises his hands up in defense but offers none. Fury all but rolls his eyes and him, too, not even bothering to ream him out. 
                          
"So what?" he continues, "you camp out at secret farm house, pick up a few stragglers, and call it a day?"
                          
He looks at me when he says this, his eye still scanning my face. 
                          
"I have a plan," Stark replies confidently, his chin up in the air and his back slouched on the plush cushions. 
                          
In this setting, he could be a normal man. It's been a few days since his last shave and his shirt is slightly crinkled in the warm light from under the room's lamp shades. Just as easily, in a normal life, they all could be regular people just over at a friend's house for dinner. The normal clothing, sweaters and jeans, make them look young and... tired.