agent thirteen

“I guess it depends on the politician,” he shrugged a shoulder, facing the board at the front and reading through the specials. It was unnecessary, he was a man of habit when it came to food and had known his order before he stepped through the door but it was an easy distraction. “Most seem to have views that I would call…,” he paused for a moment, pursing his lips before settling upon a neutral, “out of date.” Oliver was more than aware of needing to play the publicity game. False moves on his part could damage his company which in turn would hurt the employees he now had across the nation. While he was outspoken, he tried to keep himself somewhat in line. 

He finally turned enough to put her in his peripheral vision, the eyebrow nearest her ticking upwards. “I’m not paranoid for me,” he tossed back. It was true. As had always been clear in his missions with the Justice League, Oliver Queen was a privileged white guy. More than that, he was a mere human. He wasn’t some space cop with a magic ring or able to wield actual magic. He wasn’t from another planet or even imbued with metahuman abilities. Oliver was safe. His friends? Not so much. “I thought you were coming to give me bad news. Y’know, about maybe, our mutual friend. Who wouldn’t know how to lay low if you knocked her unconscious.” It took the blonde a few moments to put in his sandwich order and tap his card for payment before sliding down the counter to wait.

“Out of date is a way of putting it.” As far as politics went, Sharon had a mind of her own. But that mind wasn’t often appreciated in her line of work — though that line of work had changed recently. It was still something that was burned into her muscle memory. Something that she’d never fully forget. Like the time she had been in the White House, placed there as an aide working with the President’s staff and shaping politics from that angle. Which, as Sharon had found, was wildly ineffective. People didn’t listen to the pretty staffers — they were there to do simple tasks and then eavesdrop on other politicians speaking because they largely went unnoticed.

It was interesting, Rachel supposed, that the woman had noticed anything at all. Most people, caught up in their own startling fear, wouldn’t have taken note of other people not reacting to something as simple as an unexpected noise on a crowded street. Most people would be too wrapped up in their own minds, their own lives, their own emotions to notice anyone else’s. Rachel herself had always been an exception to this rule, had always preferred losing herself in what other people felt than facing the turmoil of her own heart. It was strange to think that this woman, this stranger might be the same. (It wasn’t entirely the bad sort of strange.)

“It’s New York, isn’t it?” The words were cautious, dismissive. “Everyone has a story.” This woman wasn’t entirely unlike Rachel… but that didn’t make her trustworthy. If anything, it pointed towards the opposite. Rachel herself wasn’t someone to be trusted, after all. She offered the woman a smile, small and almost apologetic. She wasn’t sure what the apology would be for — for not startling at the noise? Or for not offering up her story after the fact? Or for both, or for everything? It could be so hard to know, so hard to decide. “Control is a strong suit for me. For you, too, I’d bet.”

/

Sharon let out a lively laugh, “You’re right about that. No boring people here.” They all had some sort of history. And with the siege and all the other mounting events that had turned into crisis’s here, those stories got worse and worse. They were all filled with loss and fear and monsters they didn’t know had existed until it was too late, until they were fighting them in the streets and praying to make it to the next day. This city and its people had character. Rough edges and harsh spots that you couldn’t shine a direct light on because if you did then you threatened to show the darkest parts of yourself at the same time.

But the young woman looked at her and there was a hint of an apology on her features. Sharon schooled her expression before she showed it, but it had startled her. Because it was the same look that Sharon gave other people for so easily reading between the lines and picking at their most sensitive spots in life. For that need she had to know everything and have all the answers — Sharon had that same apologetic look in her eyes when she started digging in on her friends after promising not to. And then, the woman turned it around on her completely and Sharon let herself smile. Small and in the corner of her mouth, but it was there. “Usually, I’d be ashamed that I could be so easily read,” Sharon admitted. “But you’re right. Some people call that high strung but… some of us call that survival.”

Was it easier to lose someone after they’d lived a life like she had? Was it easier when Sharon had an entire childhood of summers at Peggy’s house, when they got to sit on the beach and eat ice cream together, when she passed down her thigh holster and they could talk about work? Was it easier when there was a decade of mourning, of learning to let go, before the inevitable happened? Peggy wasn’t sure. Everyone she’d ever lost had been taken far too soon. Her parents. Her darling, dead brother. Her best friend. Steve. Daniel. Peggy was a walking wardrobe of memories, dragging along the people who’d left this life long before she had behind her. Maybe Sharon was pleased, secretly, that Peggy was finally at peace – that she didn’t need to keep repeating her name, reminding her of the day she was born, saying no, Howard is dead, he’s been dead a long time–

But this didn’t look pleased. She looked haunted. Even in the split second before she seemed to realise this was actually happening, Peggy could read the weight of grief on her niece’s shoulders (it was something she was achingly familiar with, after all. She’d been a widow long before she was even married). “Not a long time, in the grand scheme of things,” Peggy said, “but it’s a lifetime when you’re missing someone.” Missing something. A support system, an anchor.

(She didn’t have much time between waking up and coming here, but there were certain events she couldn’t miss. SHIELD falling into the Potomac, the Red Skull even in death infiltrating the very agency she founded to the memory of a great man, to the letter of freedom and justice. How dare they – and how Sharon must look at her now. A foolish old woman who missed what grew under her nose for decades.)

“It’s almost exactly like our first home looked,” Peggy offered, a tight smile on her face. “Though we were attached to another house. We had neighbours that used to drill holes in the connecting wall so they could shout through for us to turn the music down. We were never playing music when they yelled, so we’re quite sure they were hearing things. Bizarre people, really.” It was the kind of place she’d pictured during the war. She’d never been the domestic type, never thought about a white picket fence and goats and children, but she’d thought about it then. She’d pictured it.

It was all to do with the people you surrounded yourself with. Peggy knew that well, after decades of living alone, then trying out the alternative. Losing people hurt, but it was worth it every time. She looked down at the shoes by the door, the coat hanging up on the hook. “She’s just like her mother,” Peggy offered. “You always loved getting messy in the garden. Used to track dirt right through to the kitchen. I always thought Daniel would’ve–” Loved that. Loved her. He’d barely known her. She may not even recognise him, except for photographs.

Then Sharon spoke again, and Peggy broke herself from her daze. “Oh, no,” she said. “That’s a little too close to the summer I stayed with Howard for my liking. I found a place in Bed-Stuy that suits me perfectly. Good neighbours.” It would be better, of course, if she was closer to Sharon, but she felt that was a little too presumptuous to say. “It’s okay,” Peggy said, and this time it was so easy to be soft, to reach out and put her hand over Sharon’s on her arm. “Whatever you’re feeling – if you’re angry or sad or confused – it’s okay. It’s always been okay. I’m still your same aunt, and if you need time, I can give that to you.”

You learned to live with it. That was the cold, hard truth of loss. You never really got over it, but you learned how to manage it. Learned how to know when to let it out, when to bottle it up — and how to do all of that without breaking under the pressure of the reality that you were faced with. Loss. Death. Grief. Sharon would have said she was years to prepare for it, years of walking in and putting on her mother’s wedding rings because her aunt remembered Amanda, but not her. At least, not as an adult. She’d talk to Sharon and ask her how the baby was, and if she’d bring her over to visit. And Sharon would always smile as if it didn’t cut into her heart, and say next time.

Sharon had spent those last years being whoever Peggy needed her to be, pocketing the rings when Peggy did recognize her and ask questions about her friends. And sometimes, there was no recognition there. Sometimes, Sharon was just a nurse who was checking in on the health of her patient. (Those days were harder.) “A lifetime,” Sharon agreed, letting out a strained laugh. Everything that had happened in the last ten years — she was sure that Peggy wouldn’t remember it. And in those ten years was so much. Danny came home. Trip died. SHIELD went down. Inhumans had made their presence publicly known. But those were big world things. Sharon, as invested as she was in the world, had been drowning in a lot more than those things. Germany. Being on the run. Crawling back to SHIELD because that was the only path home that didn’t end with her being charged with treason for what she had done. “I’d offer to help you catch up but I think I’d end up turning all the events around.”

There was a faint laugh, awkward still, while Sharon tried to find her footing with her Aunt again. (She was there — really there — and it was still hard to process, even as they kept matching up with stories. The normal things that would come up about Peggy’s late husband.) “We tried to figure it out in a single room apartment. But we couldn’t keep it up with the new addition.” They could have, if they really had wanted to. But there was freedom in this home that they didn’t have in the city. Especially when James needed to stay hidden from the world, and Tali wasn’t legal. And Sharon had a job where people would look for things in her life, like James and Tali, and try and hurt them in order to get back at her or manipulate her somehow. It was all so much risk and a lot of that remained even now, but at least James didn’t have to pretend not to be James anymore.

“Holes in the walls—” Sharon pinched her nose at the thought of it. She hadn’t spent much time in her apartment with her work, but she’d have to ask James later if he had any weird encounters with her neighbors at all.

Just like her mother. Sharon wrinkled her nose immediately, trying to let herself fall back into her normal reactions, let herself relax because this was her aunt. “Don’t agree with James. It’s his fault she’s bringing in mud. Something about getting dirty being normal and healthy…” and it was. It was very normal for children. (And Sharon knew that it was normal for her — even without Peggy there to remind her, Tony had been all too happy to retell all the terrible things she had done as a child to him.)

Bruce plucked idly at the collar of his shirt, frowning down at the steam coming from his cup, “But it is unironic.” Turning what Natasha referred to as his ‘puppy dog eyes’ on Sharon, he laughed at his own inability to say it with a straight face. “That’s like when I go out wearing a Pink Floyd t-shirt or my Ramones jacket and people ask me if I’m a hipster, and all I can say is ‘I don’t know what that is.’”

For a moment, it was easy to just laugh with Sharon, feel the weight on his shoulders slip down his back with the slack of their conversation, being out in public with slightly less fear that something awful was waiting around every corner. “Do I look like the kind of guy who goes on any diet?”

Bulky fingers pointed at what a few Avengers-fans called his ‘dad bod,’ gesturing to his stomach. While it was still flat, it certainly was not near as firm as it had been in his 20′s, 30′s or even 40′s. Going from a life on the run and hardly ever eating to living in a tower filled with snacks made for a man like Tony Stark had him living an entirely different lifestyle. “I was only successfully vegan for a period of time while I was India because there wasn’t anything else.” 

Shrugging his shoulders, the physicist tried not to sound too hurt by his next words, “Besides, Tony has Zee to cook him things now.” Do everything together now. 

Sharon bit down on a laugh, covering her mouth as Bruce spoke. “The ultimate hipster, not even knowing what a hipster is — stop,” she said between fits of laughter. Inhaling deeply, she held her breath for a beat, trying to push down the laughter so that she could finish her food without choking. But the more she thought about it, the more she laughed. “This is rude. I’m trying to eat here and you’re trying to end my life here in public with your hipster bullshit.” But the smile on her face pushed away any idea that her words might have been serious.

“Neither does my kid and yet Tony has her drinking kale smoothies and eating weird shit when I’m not looking. So, what’s that phrase — don’t judge a book by its cover?” Though Tali would eat anything presented to her with great excitement. Except carrots. Sharon still wasn’t sure what it was about them that upset her so much but the number of ‘put those back’ text messages that James got from her phone when Tali stole it to demand different food was alarming.

Laura stopped chewing when she heard the woman’s voice from the other room, and as soon as she walked in she begin casually chewing again. Usually she didn’t sneak into places she didn’t know, but she was starving right now and this seemed as good as any other time. It probably helped she wasn’t into her uniform, and instead had on clothes that were covered in slashes and burns. Probably made her seem less threatening, especially sitting criss cross on top of the table. But in this city you could never assume someone was good. 

“That would be good.” She took another bite, letting her eyes roam around the room. “This kitchen is nice.” Small talk, she told herself. Didn’t people like that?

/

She was strange for a lot of reasons, but reminded Sharon of Tali in the same breath. The woman was looking around the room, taking in the sights and complimenting the kitchen while Sharon pulled out her cellphone and started placing another food order. (She should have been more wary of a young woman slipping into her house without a word and eating her food — but she had a feeling. And like James had told her, her gut tended to be right.)

They were closing in on a year. A year with Tali. It didn’t seem like that long ago that they had fumbled through Russia and came home with a child, but it had. And in that time, they had been no closer to finding out anything about her. She was five-ish, maybe six now, maybe not. They knew every little about her history outside of the room they had found her in, and they could make assumptions all night about what had happened to her. (Or why she slept with a hand above her head. Or if she had a family that had missed her — or when she had been born, so she had some arbitrary day to celebrate being on this planet for another year.)

The questions had piled up, and they had done their best (and with a lot of help from Tony) to give her a normal life. To get her into school despite them not having any documentation that she was legal here. Despite not having a day to write for her birthday so Sharon had left it blanked and played dumb when the school called to ask her to fill out the form properly. Sharon would say that she would and then get ‘too busy’ to go to the school and she’d always find a way to get of the phone with them when they asked her to simply give them the information there.

Sharon didn’t know why it stuck with her the way it had, but Tali had everything taken from her. But she had taken her life back with small things. Like choosing her name. Finding out that she liked candy — having opinions of her own even when everyone in the family looked at her and told her no — she was a person here. And Tali lived so loudly. Like now, she was sitting in the living room with a rubber duck on her head describing the show she was watching with immaculate detail, as if her toy could really hear her. It was so funny and so normal. And Sharon was sitting across the table from James, her feet in his chair, nudging him with the balls of her feet as if she didn’t already have his full attention.

@dreamsxfnia

Sharon recognized her right away, the woman who had pulled her out of traffic months ago. Helping her narrowly escape the trajectory of an oncoming car. And now, Sharon was seeing her step into help someone else narrowly avoid danger. Things were rarely coincidence, but she couldn’t imagine Nia being the kind of girl to create trouble where there wasn’t any. Appearances could be deceiving, sure, but Sharon trusted her gut, and her gut told her that Nia was good. But this was twice now, and that rose some questions in Sharon’s mind.

Smiling at Nia, Sharon nodded her head. “I didn’t mean to surprise you.” But her eyes flickered towards the person who was now shuffling away, shaken but ultimately fine. Dodging a dance with death. “Do you… run into situations like this often? Seems like any time I see you, you’re on the edge of avoiding another disaster.”

Clint jerked awake, panicked for a moment before realizing it was only Sharon, and she was already talking. Bleary eyes caught ‘get up’ and ‘glitter’ and he decided his day was already headed into a nosedive. “Aw, Sharon, no.”

He ran one hand through his hair and used the other to cover his eyes. If he didn’t see her, she didn’t exist. Maybe she was like one of the T-Rexes in Jurassic Park: if he held extremely still, he’d blend into the covers and she wouldn’t even know he was there. He peaked through his fingers: no dice. She was still very there, and very much not a figment of his imagination. ‘One more minute,’ he signed, never mind that it had already been at least two. His useless phone had an endless number of notifications on it, and his floor was cold under his bare feet, and Sharon was standing in his apartment.

He needed at least five minutes.

It took him that long to grind some coffee beans and start a pot, for Lucky to pad into the room and press up against Sharon like she belonged there or something, the traitor. If she was there, it probably meant Clint was supposed to be somewhere. He wondered how many times she’d been sent off to retrieve a wayward operative, if this was something she enjoyed. He almost felt guilty. Almost.

He was still half asleep, give him five more minutes. He turned around to lean back against his counter, coffee percolating behind him. If she’d been talking, he’d missed it in favor of getting his morning jump start going. “Coffee? I’m in trouble, aren’t I...”

/

She was timing him. Clint always dragged his ass any time that she showed up and demanded that he get out of bed and be a part of the team. She didn’t blame him for it, the Avengers were a nightmare on their best day, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t needed there. The combating egos didn’t mean that Clint wasn’t missed in the morning when he didn’t take his seat and lean back, as if he was going to nap in the chair and act like it was such a burden being there.

Maybe it was. Maybe Sharon hadn’t learned that yet with her brief time on the team. She had seen it up close in Germany. Watched the team fall apart and try to build itself back up in a short span but the divisions came hard and fast and Sharon had found it impossible to choose sides honestly. Tony was her family, but she believed in what Steve had been saying. And how did you take sides in a family? They all had to in the end of that fight, but at what cost?

‘One minute and you’ll have—’ but his eyes were closed. Fine. He wanted to ignore her, then he could find out later what enemy he had made this day. “Enjoy your bed,” Sharon mumbled, knowing that Clint wouldn’t hear her, even if he had his hearing aids in — he would have covered his head with that pillow of his just to drown her out.

“Nope,” Danny insisted, and it probably said all that needed saying about his maturity level that his tongue popped out of his mouth towards her — like a little kid teasing a sibling. This was a side of himself he’d thought for sure he’d lost in K’un Lun, a piece of himself he thought died in the plane crash, but Sharon brought it out with ease. She was one of the people out there who could make him so unapologetically himself, and he adored her for it. “Sharon,” he groaned, making a face. “That’s gross! And I know that’s not how they color shirts. They dye them.” It was something he really only knew because they’d done as much even in K’un Lun. Dyeing robes different colors to match ceremonial themes had been one of the many jobs children there were tasked with. There were days Danny swore he still caught sight of yellow stains on his fingertips.

Sharon defended her color choices by not defending them, and Danny rolled his eyes. “You don’t even have an excuse! That’s because you know it’s boring.” He was laughing now, trying to imagine the two of them pulling one over on Tony. It wasn’t something they’d ever really gotten the chance to do before, if only because Tony was a hard man to fool. The whole genius thing made the playing field just a little uneven. “It doesn’t sound like much fun, does it?” No part of dividing up property or filing paperwork sounded like fun. Sharon’s hand landed on his mouth and Danny, being the absolute picture of maturity, immediately stuck out his tongue to lick her palm. It was instinctive, really, the kind of thing any younger cousin would do regardless of age. “I am not the worst! I’m an angel. Everybody thinks I’m an angel. You’re just mean.” He paused for a moment, considering her words before the inevitable, “What’s a vibe check, anyway?”

Sharon made a grab for his mouth, as if she was going to grab his tongue straight from his mouth, but she missed. (Though if it was on purpose or if he retracted it too quickly — that was up for debate.) Grinning like an idiot, Sharon nodded her head energetically. “Yeah, they dye them with snot. I mean, where do you think it all goes?” She asked, trying to make it seem like a reasonable jump despite how crazy it seemed. “I mean, it’s ethically sourced! No damage to animals, all natural, biodegradable dye… snot.” She sniffed dramatically at the end of her sentence, punctuating her words dramatically. With the look on his face though, she wasn’t sure that she’d be able to convince him of what she was saying, but there was some hope in her heart that she could at least get a reaction out of him.

Rolling her eyes, she let Danny keep talking. And he was good at trying to pull a reaction out of her. Like a little brother — and that was because he had been that for her since they were kids. But it had been too long since he had been able to get under her skin. And about something so petty? “Better than snot,” she said so simply. He was right about one thing though, the idea of halving anything was a sad one. (It reminded her of ended relationships. Of sorting her Aunt’s things after she died.) “You are —” Sharon pulled her hand away and then smacked it gently to his forehead, running it down the front of his face to clean his spit off her hand. “You are disgusting.” She waved her hand in the air, her brows furrowed. “You want to try and say that again? You really think that after what you just did?” Grumbling, she let out a sigh, wishing to forget the feeling on her hand. Why was Danny like this? “It’s uh, when you check in on someone and see what their mood is like? Sometimes it’s you know, a gentle check in… sometimes it’s a swift punch in the gut to see how mad it’ll make you.”

“If you want out I won’t hold it against you” Helena knew she was asking a lot, that this was risky, if anyone in the other families even suspected something was off it would put them both in danger. Helena was willing to give her life if it meant the end of the Cosa Nostra but she wasn’t willing to let anyone else die for this, Sharon had already done more than Helena was allowed to ask for. “I wouldn’t even know where to start” redecorating her new office was the furthest thing from her mind right now. “Do you think just making everything purple would be too obvious?”

/

Rolling her eyes, Sharon crossed her arms and faced Helena. “You should know better than that.” Even if this was getting more complicated by the second, that didn’t mean that Sharon was going to bail. She had never been that kind of person and she wasn’t about to start now. This might have been personal to Helena but taking apart the mafia was a mission that she could get behind. (Removing them would make the world that much safer for her daughter.) “Purple is the color of royalty in some countries. Blue is a nice choice too but…” Purple had always been Helena’s color. “I would avoid hanging any arrows or you know… the suit up. Might be a bit obvious.”

Helena wasn’t certain that they knew she was alive, but she assumed at least some of them knew by now, not that it mattered much now, her plan was pretty much ready to be put into motion. “That is where you come in” she confirmed with a nod, finding the file she had on the rival family she handed it to Sharon. “I would go in myself but with my last name I can’t risk it” if she went undercover in one of the rival families and they found out she was a Bertinelli it wouldn’t end well. “I just need you to gain their trust then find enough information to ruin them” she shrugged, after that Helena would go to the Cosa Nostra and show what she was capable of, what she could do if they didn’t agree to fall in line.

/

Sharon nodded her head as Helena spoke, understanding her hesitance to do it all herself. Something like this, it made sense not to go it alone. She understood why she wasn’t telling everyone either — and Sharon was a safe bet to keep something like this quiet. This was what she did for a living. This was what she was good at. “Just information seeking for now?” Find a way to ruin them from the inside out. Sharon would be lying if she didn’t admit that she was a little excited at the idea presented. “When do we start?”

[Deluded Admirer of Thor] No, I am struggling with the awful Midgard usage of them.  [Deluded Admirer of Thor] And by the way, I do not “pretend” to be the smartest person in the room. I am. [Deluded Admirer of Thor] “A ton”, you say? Then why do I have such difficultly getting through to mortals if so many of them like me? [Deluded Admirer of Thor] Making foolish videos is most certainly simple, but I fail to see what enjoyment I am missing there. [Deluded Admirer of Thor] Good at being offensive, perhaps. [Deluded Admirer of Thor] Because you mortals seem to discuss uncouth things like that frequently. Those silly videos clearly support how much you like to bring those things out into the open. [Deluded Admirer of Thor] Sounds like a very foolish job. [Deluded Admirer of Thor] Again, if I do not frighten you, then what exactly would you determine to be “dangerous shit”?

(✉️ ➡️ Sharon): I did think of the time! I just thought you would be awake, like most people! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): It is very normal. (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): You can watch it rise /and/ set! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): It’s not!! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): That’s mean :( (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): Well, then I’m really glad I’m not at your house! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): You can’t do all of those things at once and I don’t want to wait for you to get them all done. (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): No, no more hours! Sharon! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): I can give you a check! An apology check. After we talk! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): You don’t though!

[…] (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): Disgusting? :( That’s mean (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): I do. I trust her more than anything. (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): Do you really think so? Do you think she’ll say yes? (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): But I wouldn’t ask! So you’re safe! (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): I want to get takeout. Like, a /lot/ of takeout. All the stuff that has /memories/ for us. Maybe get Zee to help me make some homemade stuff, too. (✉️ ➡️ Sharon): Do you think she’d like that?

(✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): MOST PEOPLE? NO ONE IS AWAKE AT THIS HOUR (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): it’s an affront to man and should be forever removed from our consciousness. 4am can choke (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): as fun and romantic as that sounds, my bed is so much warmer (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): :) (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): i’m right and i am not phased by your sad faces (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): i know where you live, danny. (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): didn’t you learn patience or something where you were at? (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): you’re the worst (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): i don’t want your money i want SLEEP you punk ass (✉️ ➡️ damn daniel ): you don’t think i want you to suffer? it would be an honor to make your life miserable after this

(✉️ ➡️ agent agent): i’m smarter than i look (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): that seems pretty shady. what, a guy doesn’t get rights anymore? (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): well, my life’s pretty drama free. sorry to say. (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): she’s really passionate about reading (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): it’s a family heirloom  (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): it’s a collectible  (✉️ ➡️ agent agent): pick your answer. not invested enough to try for more.

(✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): both! (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): how do you manage it?  (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): yeah, changing decades is a pretty big one.  (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): [UNSENT] even if it wasn’t entirely /intentional/ (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): i mean, hard drugs always did the trick but i’m trying to keep away from those (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): kidding! (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): no i’m not. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): oh my god, please don’t kill me. i am /not/ daring you to kill me. in fact, i dare you /not/ to kill me. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): what, you want me to lie to you? because i tried that! several times! you called me out! it was mean! (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): if it makes you feel any better, i’m pretty sure you’ll be dead by the time shit gets that bad. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): yeah. i’m trying to change it, i am. i just… don’t know how /much/ i can change. i’d like to be born, you know? make sure my brother gets born, too. it’s a thin line. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): what’s a rumba? (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): that was a good joke! the spider people would’ve laughed at that joke. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): that’s weird to me too, you know? wasting time. where i’m from, your time kind of belongs to your boss. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): no such thing as too much science (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): sad and a headache, that’s my life. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): hey, look at that! i’m great with kids and ages. i should go into teaching. (✉️ ➡️ agent sharon): a kiwi?