Sushi– Agent Phil Coulson could handle sushi. In fact, if this was anything it was a covert operation. He’d already met his targets. Subdued and unsuspecting, they sat in pairs on the other side of the restaurant, their night’s meal already ordered. Phil cleared his throat at his own booth, resisting any need to check his watch.
At least the atmosphere was relaxing, the agent noted with relief. He sat under the warm lighting of his booth, the city outside already dark. –Perhaps he shouldn’t have picked a booth. What if the bar was better suited for he and his– Date?
Phil sighed heavily. Fake-date.