(no subject)

[agentx13]

Sharon had sat in the coffee shop, watching the office door, for six hours now, and she had no intention of stopping anytime soon. Part of a spy's work was watching for hours on end without taking a break.

Beside her, she had a stack of books on science and history, and directly in front of her, arranged so she could keep an eye on the place, was her laptop. The windows had been arranged to show her a camera-eye view of the back of the office, as well as the front.

She figured that eventually, someone inside would notice and come to have a chat with her.

She could admit that spies had an odd way of doing business, but it was more fun than walking in and announcing what she wanted to the world.

Comments

[superieure]

Monet, later, will wonder how she didn't notice immediately. Plenty of problems showed up at X-Factor's doorstep, about 99 of them were Jaime Madrox's fault. For the first few hours or so they're handling some menial cases: the usual missing persons and adultery suspicions, and once her colleagues start filtering out of the room she glances through the window and notices that person hasn't moved in a bit. Brushing it off (if it's trouble, it'll come, won't it?) she busies herself with loading some new songs on her iPhone, and passes the window again.

The blonde's still there, no change in heartbeat.

Funny.

She chooses her armour: deeper colours instead of striking, a pair of good heels, and slides into the seat opposite Sharon like this has all just a normal day. Nobody at the shop so much as gives them a second glance, except one of the servers.

'Sorry I'm late, dear,' she says, smoothly. 'You know how work can be. Another cup of coffee? My treat.'

[agentx13]

Finally.

Sharon smiles brightly, as if she's greeting a friend she hasn't seen in a long time. "Too kind, darling. Too kind. I'm the one who showed up early. I'll pay."

She takes a large manilla envelope from beneath one of the stacks of books. "I brought those pictures you asked for." The envelope as more than pictures. It's a SHIELD dossier on a young woman with unruly brown hair and eyes so dark they were almost black. The name on the dossier identifies her a Mary Bosworth.

While she waits, Sharon takes a polite sip of her drink. "I was starting to doubt if any of you would stop by."

[superieure]

Thankfully, her nail polish is dry, or this could be Impending Doom, capital letters included. She flips through the file idly, her eyes scanning the photos. This girl looks what, barely twenty, and already there's a dossier on her. Monet doesn't doubt there's one on them too, but this one only covers the bare facts: date of birth, hometown, nothing about whether Ms. Bosworth has blown anything up or suddenly become a spy. In the background, Monet can hear the other customers chatter telepathically, and the woman across the table from her is eerily silent.

'We are busy,' she retorts, but she's inwardly grateful the world's not only quiet, but sent her somebody interesting. Even if they are S.H.I.E.L.D. 'Nothing besides photographs?'

[agentx13]

"We suspect she's a mutant whose parents are... less than open-minded." Sharon taps her fingers against the table softly, her eyes on the file. "She's fifteen. Home-schooled since she was twelve. Both parents have radiation poisoning. Her mom might not make it."

She takes a small breath, almost of irritation. "This is outside of SHIELD's jurisdiction. If it were a matter for the authorities, she would be returned to her parents. There's no proof that she's a mutant, no proof that she might be a danger to herself or others. But her parents may feel that she is the source of their troubles and should be punished when they think no one is watching. And bureaucracy being what it is, eventually, someone wouldn't be."

She leans forward, her eyes finally meeting Monet's. "Are you too busy to help find her or not? I only have a week's vacation, and frankly, I need your resources."