A/N: Ok, fair warning. This is ridiculous, and totally unrelated to any of my other pieces. That's what happens when I'm bored and is having weird Avengers discussion with my friend. I apologize in advance. I really do.
I will resume with Elves don't die straight after, I swear.
So all in all, I blame my friend for this. I hope you enjoy anyway!
The last thing Coulson remembered was the helicarrier, trying to keep Loki from escaping. He recalled the blinding pain of being stabbed in the back, and the thrill of shooting the God of Mischief. He had a fuzzy and vague memory of Fury ordering him not to die.
Well, let it not be said that Phil Coulson disobeyed orders. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, trying to locate himself. The ground was hard under him, so clearly he wasn't in medical. Was he still in the dock? Had it really been so short a time that he hadn't been moved yet?
There was just one way to find out. He forced his eyelids to open themselves, despite their heartfelt protests. He blinked a couple of time, before shaking his head. Something was off.
The sky wasn't right. It wasn't blue, but a boring, smudgy grey. All the daffodils around were the same. Why couldn't he see blue and yellow? And he saw far more, nearly all around his head. He shook his head again, trying to get his brain to work properly again. He had been stabbed in the chest, not in the head, his vision shouldn't be affected that much! When he opened his eyes again, his vision was still the same. He tried to push himself up, but his arms wouldn't cooperate. Coulson was alone, his body was going haywire, and seriously, he shouldn't be smelling that much. He didn't understand, he didn't like it. At all. Why was he there? Where were Fury, and Barton, and Romanoff?
Coulson cried in frustration, and it quickly morphed into a startled squeal. He had produced a high pitched sound, one he had no idea he could even make.
He finally looked down to his hands. Well, the term hands was erroneous. Paws was more appropriate. Squirrel paws, to be precise.
He had squirrel paws. What the fucking hell. He tried once again to get on his hind legs, and stumbled. He fell on his face a few times again, and was so very glad no one was paying attention to the drunk looking squirrel. He was also grateful that Barton wasn't around, because he would tease him for the rest of his life.
If he was to be stuck as a squirrel, this life would be far shorter than he ever thought it'd be. He tried to ignore his gut curling at the thought of Barton. He didn't know what happened to the agent, as far as he knew he was still compromised. He hoped Romanoff got to him before someone took him down for good. Coulson spent too much time on the both of time for it to be thrown out of the window.
Finally, Coulson managed to stand, and looked around. He was in some kind of park, with trees around, and long, flat strips of grass. There was quite a few people there, talking to themselves. Coulson was fine with them as long as they stayed away from him, at the very least until he grasped the handle over his body.
He didn't know where he was in the planet, but by the concentration of fair skinned people, he was probably either in Europe or North America. He took a tentative step forward, and once again smashed forward to the ground. He tried to grumble, but it came out as a cutesy ticking sound. That was going to leave a mark, and he hoped the fur would, had the very least, hide it properly. He had to find a silver lining.
He refused to consider the madness of his situation. It wouldn't do him any good. Anyway, he had a plan. He would master the treacherous squirrel's body, and then he would make his way toward S.H.I.E.L.D.'s closest office.
Then he would hope someone would understand that weird acting squirrel was something that deserved to be looked into. Otherwise, he was going to cry. And he didn't even know if rodents could cry. He did know Agent Phil Coulson didn't, though. He didn't earn his robot reputation by being cuddly and confession inducing. And he knew it. He was happy with that situation. But now, he was a squirrel. Not really high on the dangerous and fear inducing scale.
Phil wasn't even sure they ranked better than rabbits. He wasn't sure how he felt about being this vulnerable. At least he would be inconspicuous. There wasn't a lot of thing that people noticed less than a squirrel.
The agent took a deep bracing breath, and wobbled to his feet again. He was going to do this. He wasn't going to be stuck as a squirrel. He wouldn't. He had no idea how he ended up there, but he was going to find a way to come back.
He had been training himself for some time, he couldn't tell exactly how much, but at that point he could do a couple of steady steps. Of course, the next logical step was to try to run.
Of course, he crashed on his face again. Of course, that's when someone decided to notice him. He was slowly getting up, when he heard the approaching footsteps, and the laughter. He froze, hoping against all hopes that they would pass beside him, oblivious. That they weren't laughing at his latest fail.
It didn't work. Whatever leftover faith in god Coulson had that might have survived nearly twenty years of working with S.H.I.E.L.D. disappeared right at that moment. Two young men stopped about ten meters away from him, and pulled out IPhones to immortalize the moment. If Coulson was still human, he would be gritting his teeth. As a squirrel, he merely raised his chin, and raised to his feet with as much dignity as he had left. He didn't dare to try to run again, not wanting to be tomorrow's YouTube sensation.
They laughed once more, and Phil decided to take the opportunity to try and slid away. Of course that wasn't in the card for him. He started when a rock hit beside him. He spun around, and yeah, the two idiots were throwing stones at him. Coulson cried out in anger.
His high pitched ticking reverberated far, and some of the other members of the crowd turned around. That didn't stop the jackasses, and they continued throwing things at him. Rocks, sticks, anything they could get their hands on.
Phil noticed some movement in the surrounding trees. Apparently his vocal performances had drawn the attention of his new compatriots. He smelled the squirrel gathering around. Not that it was going to help.
A blond boy detached himself from the bystanders, and tugged one of the idiots' shoulder.
"Eh, stop that. Leave it alone."
Phil wanted to hug him, but that couldn't really happen at the moment. First, the teenager actually defended him, but he also gave him a good idea about where he was. He had spoken in French, and the Agent was pretty sure the accent was a Quebecer one. So he was in Canada. The closest S.H.I.E.L.D. office would be in New York. He was one step closer to his goal.
"Oh, will you care of your business."
The three of them were wearing red squares, whatever that meant. Coulson had been so busy dealing with the tesseract, and all the related issues, from Thor to Tony, that he hadn't been paying much attention to what happened in Quebec.
Ah well, it probably didn't concern squirrels. What did concern him at the moment, was the fact one of his two friends had pushed the blond boy away, while the other shot another rock.
Phil would like to state that it was only a lucky hit that wouldn't have happened if he had been in full control of his body. The fact remained, that he was hit on the flank.
He howled-as much as a squirrel could-in pain, stumbling to the side, tripping once more. The blond shouted, and something weird happened.
The squirrels that Coulson noticed earlier seemed to take his scream as an attack order, and all at once jumped on the two offenders. They all avoided the blond guy who had tried to he him, and assaulted the others. The guys squealed, and flailed. Phil was frozen in place, trying to wrap his head around the situation.
He had somehow inherited an army of squirrel bodyguards. He shared a look with Blondie, who was standing as still as he could, barely breathing. For a brief second, they understood each other, before turning to watch the army once more.
The two guys were running in circles, bite marks all over. Everyone was filming, and Phil was rather enjoying himself. Maybe he was as helpless as he first thought he was.
Blondie looked at him once more, asking wordlessly if Phil thought it was safe for him to move. Coulson nodded slowly, and it was clear the other guy was too far gone to make sense of the all thing, because he actually listened to the squirrel, and slowly crept away, keeping a wary eye on the grey, squeaking mass. Phil himself pushed himself on his feet once more.
This time, he directed himself toward the forest, determined to get out of harm's way before his unexpected helpers decided they would rather chase after nuts than jackasses.
Surprisingly, he achieved his goal. Once he reached safety, he decided to take pity on the guys, and called a reassuring tick. Automatically, all the rodents froze, and ran away, leaving two bloody, confused teenagers behind.
The rest of the crowd laughed at them for a few minutes more, before someone took them away to get checked up at the hospital, and everyone went back to their business, apparently planning some kind of manifestation.
Phil didn't try to learn more, and curled up in the tighter ball he could. He really, really needed to sleep. Luckily, 'night' would bring some wisdom to him. Luckily, no more stupid people would use him for target practice.
At least when Barton did, he used Nerf Arrows.
Phil sighed once more, and tried to sleep.
It was the best he could do until it was darker.
OOOOOOOOOO
Phil woke up groggily, blinking for a good five minutes, trying to get the color to look right, until he remembered he was a squirrel.
Don't blame him. It was a situation he had to deal with often in his life. He was a rodent, for some weird reason.
He looked around, and was glad to see the park was empty of humans, red square wearer or else. He took his time to get to his feet, and realized he was starving. Ah well, there wasn't much he could do at the moment. He had no idea what a squirrel was supposed to eat. He would probably end up rummaging the surrounding garbage. However, it implied being able to jump to a certain height.
So he was back to the training part. He looked down, do avoid tripping on a root or something inane like that. And he was gone.
For what seemed hours, Coulson walked the park back in forth, going faster and faster, until he was able to run pretty fast. He was pleased to realize that the motion was pretty instinctive. When he was able to cross the length in a few seconds, he let out a gleeful squeal.
Obviously, that's when he missed a rock, and tripped on it, crushing his nose for what seemed to be the hundredth time today. He grumbled, and let himself fall to the ground. He deserved a break. Really.
And he was still starving. He leered toward a garbage bin, and braced himself, pretty damn happy no one was going to record this. He positioned himself, and started to run, building momentum.
When he was in what he considered to be jumping distance, he launched himself.
BAM!
He landed to the ground with a muted thud, the rest of the world spinning around him. He wanted to cry, once again. Never, in all his years with S.H.I.E.L.D. had he been so helpless. He always knew what he was supposed to do, what he could do to solve his problems.
But now, he was lost. He was alone.
Coulson groaned, and shook himself. Self-pity wasn't going to solve anything. The only thing he could do at the moment was try, and again until he succeeded.
He noticed movement again, and he was pretty sure the squirrels were back. Well, if his misfortunes could amuse them, it was a small price to pay for thanking them for their help yesterday.
And he went again, and again.
He was up to his fourth try, and he wasn't feeling his nose anymore. The world was spinning so bad he wasn't even sure where the bin was, which made his attempts pretty hard. He tried once more, and missed his target altogether, by a good meter.
He cried in frustration, wobbling on his feet. Why couldn't anyone help him?
Apparently it was the magic thing to say, because suddenly, gray ball of furs appeared from all around, each of them carrying something, either a nut, or some plant, and some of them had apple core. They dumped them in front of him, and each bumped their noses softly to his flank, before running away. When they were all gone, he had a small amount of food, far more than he could eat, starving or not. Only one remained, a little, skinny one, carrying a fry, and apparently not inclined to surrender it. Phil took one look at her, and tried to gesture for her to keep it. Her eyes lighted up, and she started nibbling on it.
Phil hesitated, and pushed some of his thing toward her, with a soft noise. She really needed to eat, the poor thing. She squealed, grateful. Phil decided that understanding other squirrel was instinctual, like running.
They ate in silence, and Phil decided he was going to sleep. She nodded, and went to climb up a tree. Phil paused, and sighed, curling at the feet of it, hoping no one would think it funny to throw things at him again.
He heard a question yap over his head. He raised his head, and noticed his new companion was looking at him, confused. She wanted to know why he wasn't coming with her. He whistled low, explaining he didn't know how to climb.
She dropped herself beside him, and started nudging his flank, pushing him toward the bark. He protested, but she was having none of it. He relented, and agreed to show her how desperately bad he was.
He wasn't expecting to prove her right. Because, yeah, he should have known, if there was one thing all squirrel knew, it was climbing trees.
She led him to a comfortable looking nest, and curled to his side. He asked her how he should call her. He name was something like 'golden light of the dawning sun on fresh dew'. Phil decided to call her Dawn. Easier to remember. She accepted the name. She decided she would call him Kit. Phil did his best not to bristle at the term. He probably looked like a lost baby at the moment.
He did feel better having someone to help him a bit. Even it was an underfed and rejected squirrel.
He took what he could have.
OOOOOOOOOO
The next morning, he climbed down gingerly and surprisingly managed to do so without injuring himself again. Dawn was right behind him, and looked at him expectantly.
He cocked his eyebrow the best he could, while being pretty sure it was hidden by his fur, and that she wouldn't understand the gesture.
She yapped impatiently.
"You hungry. Ask food."
Coulson had taken to traduce his new friend in his head. He somehow also decided her grammar would be lacking. She did get her point across though. Would the other fluffy tailed rodents help him once more?
He squealed tentatively, politely asking if food would be an option. As quickly as the day before they appeared, dumped food and ran away again. Phil and Dawn settled down, while the man did his best to gorge the young squirrel. She complied easily, and Phil knew she didn't get to eat to her hunger often. He would see to that.
For the moment, he thought about the fact that the squirrel occupying the park seemed to be listening to him, and obeying him to a certain extent.
Maybe it could help him to get to New York…
It certainly couldn't do him harm.
He talked about it to Dawn, and she seemed to be puzzled as to why her Kit was so concerned. As far as she was concerned, obeying Kit and making sure all his needs were tended to be normal.
Phil digested that. Not only did someone turn him into a gray rodent, but someone also did something to get him an army of soldier/servants. Whoever that was, he and Phil would have words about what was an acceptable behavior.
Nevertheless, at the moment, Phil would do his best with his cards. He hadn't become Fury's right hand man for nothing.
He waited for the night fall, not wanting to attract curious people like yesterday. He didn't want to have problems with Pest Control. So during the day, with Dawn's help, he worked on his balance, his jumps, his running and climbing. He discovered that the best way to approach this situation was to surrender the control of his motor ability to his squirrel brain. He wasn't really pleased by this, keen on keeping himself as human as possible, but he would also be grateful to hurt himself a bit less.
He would have to be careful. If he ever was to go back to his human form, he would like to be able to do so without being scared of passing dogs. It would make his job a little harder.
When night fell, and the few people occupying the strip of grass of the park went home, Phil and Dawn nibbled on the rest of their food. Then Phil posted himself in the middle of the forest, yapping as loud as he could.
"Come!"
And slowly, because they hadn't been aware he would need them, the squirrel trickled in, looking around, and huddled in and indistinctive blob of fur and dark eyes in front of them. Phil frowned.
That just wouldn't do.
At that moment, he decided he would train them.
By the end of the night, they were all walking in clean, line, two by two. Dawn thought it pretty funny. Phil was relieved one of them wasn't listening blindly to his orders. The younger squirrel was having a lot of fun running around throwing food at the other, jumping on them, and generally making a nuisance of herself.
Phil didn't complain, since it was good practice for the others. When dawn came, she jumped at his right side, trying to imitate his tight and right stance, while he dismissed the other, informing them that they would do the same tomorrow at the same time. Dawn yapped happily, then tackled Phil toward their trees, complaining that the older rodent was sleeping on his feet.
She remembered him a bit of Barton, expect for the lack of Nerf Arrows when nothing else worked. The archer could be as hard-headed as him when he set his mind to it, or when Coulson looked like he was three steps away from his grave.
He curled once again around Dawn, and let sleep overcome him. It had been a big day.
OOOOOOOOO
Days went past, pretty much the same. They woke up a couple hours before dusk, they would get some food-by themselves, now that Phil could function in his new body-, train a bit, and when the night settled in properly, they would call the others.
By that time, Phil had trained a couple of the smaller ones, including Dawn, for information gathering. He had developed a squad of bigger, meaner rodent to take down people, and it worked. They also adopted a rat, which had been kicked out of his house by his owner's mother a few days prior, and had an astonishing sense of strategy. He became Phil left-hand man, and between him and Dawn, the grunts, the one that were neither of the special forces squad, or the spying ones, were taken care of.
After about three weeks, Ratatouille-the rat-came to Phil, and asked when he thought they would be able to start the New York operation. Phil, who had been pushing the thing back and back, a bit afraid of how it would turn out, sighed, and nodded.
In the morning, Shadow and Dark left for the nearest bus station, to learn the schedules. They came back later that night, saying one was leaving in the morning, and would be at New York for dinner. Phil thanked them, and reviewed the plan one last time with Dawn and Ratatouille before going to nap.
At six, they were all at the bus station, waiting for their ride to appear. Finally, it came, and the driver opened the baggage hold. Coulson signaled for Skippy and Dopey to get to work. The two young squirrels had asked if they could stay in Montreal, so Phil sent them to distract the driver while he and the others jumped in to the bus.
While the man was busy flailing uselessly to try and chase them away, Dawn dashed toward the bus, everyone following suit in a neat line. Phil and Ratatouille were the last to go, the rat ready to help Skippy and Dopey if they needed to, the agent to make sure no one was left behind.
Finally, they were all on board, and the two young scouts ran away, back to their park. They found themselves a dark corner where the humans wouldn't see and disturb them. An old, mostly blind male was nearly squished under a suitcase, but Phil tackled him away just in time.
They settled, keeping an eye on the moving luggage, but the ride was quiet. They took turns to nap a bit.
Jumpy was the one to yap, several hours after that, indicating they arrived at destination. They all gathered just behind the door, waiting for it to open, so they could barge out and away from the bus before anyone realized what was going on. Not that anyone would be able to understand, but once again, Phil would like to stay away from pest control.
The door opened, and they were out.
New York was very different from a man, and a squirrel perspective. It took them about half an hour to find a little patch of grass with a couple of trees were they could hide until the night. Ratatouille wanted to explore the sewers, to discuss with the other rats, but he told Phil he would wait for him to be back where he belonged before. It wasn't as if the rats would disappear from New York in a few days time.
OOOOOOOOO
It took them a few days to get to the S.H.I.E.L.D. office. It was due, in part, to the fact that they had to do it in a lot of steps, since Phil didn't want to draw attention to their pretty remarkable group of squirrels.
And it was also imputable to the fact that orienting himself in New York as a squirrel was pretty damn hard. He lost himself, and the group, a couple of times, but the only ones to know were Dawn and Ratatouille, and they didn't really mind. They enjoyed the scenery more than anything, and left Phil to worry about insignificant things like getting to his goal. The rodents' attention span was unsurprisingly short, even thought theirs was better than most.
OOOOOOOOO
When they finally got to the non-descript building Phil knew by heart, the agent felt like crying. Again. Really, this had to stop. He was a though unflappable agent, squirrel body or no squirrel body.
They launched the final attack at midday.
Their special forces went first, and tackled down a woman who had been opening the door, keeping her down while the others barged inside. Everyone started to scream. A few guys drew their guns out, and tried to shoot them, but hey, one advantage of being a squirrel? You were pretty hard to hit. And they quickly realized it made them more of a target. The grunts, under Dawn slightly manic yapping, went after them, scaring them into running circles, squealing like ten years old girls.
Phil was proud of his troops. He was standing in the middle of the floor with ratatouille, waiting for someone he knew to come along, so he could try to communicate with him or her. Finally he heard it.
"What the fucking hell is going on here!"
Barton had just entered the building, dressed in civilian gear, staring at the mess, baffled. But he didn't go for his weapon, which Phil considered as a win. He launched into a run, and climbed up on his shoulder. The archer didn't yelp, didn't flail, and didn't try to slap him away. He simply froze, and slowly turned his head just enough to see the squirrel, without upsetting his balance
"Are you going to rip with throat open?"
Phil shook his head.
"Bite me?"
Phil shook his head again.
"Dance the Macarena?"
Phil shot him an impatient and unimpressed look. Barton smirked. Phil only then realized that this was Barton, in an S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, clearly out of Loki's control. Phil looked around, and everyone seemed to be tensed about the archer and the squirrel's discussion. Phil turned his attention back to the man when he spoke again.
"Do we know each other?"
Phil nodded, happy to be finally getting somewhere. Barton called out, still looking at Phil at the corner of his eye.
"I'm going up, to see Fury. Please call Agent Romanoff as well."
The receptionist nodded, and Barton moved to the elevator. Phil didn't move, but whistled softly, asking Dawn to come with him, and Ratatouille to look over the troops, and make sure they exited to safety.
The rat nodded his goodbyes to Phil, and the small squirrel dashed after them, sliding behind the elevators doors. Barton looked at her, than at Phil, before sighing and muttering.
"This is getting really weird."
Phil nodded, and Dawn ignored them, like she was bound to do when she didn't understand something.
Barton walked toward the Director's office, and Phil basked in the familiar setting. He knocked and entered without waiting for the permission. The receptionist had probably already informed Fury anyway. Clint dumped himself in one of the chair, while Phil and Dawn propped themselves in the other. The young girl was distracted by the soft texture of it, and spent a few minutes testing it in all the way she could think of. During this time, Phil was engaged in a staring contest with Fury, something he was sadly familiar with.
The director spoke slowly
"Do you understand me?"
Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and gave a brisk nod.
"Have you ever worked for S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
Coulson nodded again. At least the Director's question were to the point, despite being slightly boring and predictable.
He took a Notebook, and turned it, so the keyboard was facing Coulson.
"Can you type your name?"
Phil jumped on the desk, and typed carefully, until Phillip J. Coulson was staring at them on the screen.
Barton started to choke, pale as death, and Phil didn't remember ever seeing Fury frown so deep.
"This is a very serious matter, agent, if you really are who you say you a-"
Phil interrupted him by taping all his authentification codes on the screen, all thirteen of them, before jumping back to the chair, where Dawn was finally over the novelty of the cushion. Barton was staring at him, and Coulson cocked his head, calmly.
The archer started laughing, holding his belly.
"I think it's him, sir."
Fury was gaping at the screen.
"I think you're right, Barton."
Then he looked at Coulson.
"You've been turned into a squirrel, and you are still unable to make any spelling mistakes."
Coulson was about to yap at him indignantly, when suddenly he wasn't on the chair anymore. Dawn squealed angrily, but Coulson appeased her with a whistle, before twisting to face Barton, who cradle him to his chest, patting him lightly, laughing all the while.
"Isn't he the cutest thing you've ever seen!"
Phil tried to twist out of Barton's grip, because he wasn't a dog, dammit! But it didn't work, and Phil, as much as it pained him to admit it, liked the feel. Fury arched an eyebrow.
"You know he's going to give you hell for that when he's human again?"
Clint paused.
"When?"
Fury rolled his eyes at him.
"Of course, when! I'm not about to let my best agent spend the rest of his life as a squirrel. Now get him out of here, I need to make some calls."
Barton dumped Phil on his shoulder again, and looked at Dawn briefly, before tapping his other shoulder in invitation. The girl yapped happily and jumped on it, and Barton grabbed the Notebook and left the office.
Just as he stepped into the hallway, Natasha came in view. She raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment on his new shoulder decoration.
"The receptionist wanted me to tell you that all the squirrels left the building. Obviously she was mistaken."
Barton chuckled.
"I'm keeping these ones."
Natasha arched an eyebrow at him.
"I thought pets were too complicated."
Barton scoffed.
"It's not a pet. It's Coulson."
Natasha stared at him for a while, before sighing so softly that someone who didn't know her as good as Phil and Barton wouldn't have noticed it.
"How sad is it that it's not the weirdest thing that happened to me this week?"
Barton smirked.
"Very, very sad. Now come on, we have a welcome back party to organize."
And he skipped toward the exit.
OOOOOOOOOO
It took two weeks for the R&D department to come up with a solution. Phil was pretty sure their new found efficiency came from Stark's and Banner's involvement in the project. The billionaire had complained about having to house pets, but he created Phil and Dawn a huge room with everything a squirrel could ever want, and he threw himself body in soul in the research on Phil's condition. He dragged Banner with him because they were apparently Science Bros, and Tony needed his input. Everyone took to Dawn easily, spoiling her to the point Phil had to remind her to move around, otherwise she would get to fat to walk.
She was terrified by this possibility, so she spent most of her time climbing all around. She liked Darcy, Dr. Foster assistant, most of all.
They did have similar personalities.
Phil communicated with everyone via Notebook, and learned it had been almost two years since his death and the battle against Loki's army. No one understood why it had taken him so long to come back, and both Bruce and Tony couldn't wait for Thor to come back from his latest trip to Asgard to help them understand.
He also learned that each Avenger had their own floor in the Tower, but Tony and Bruce were the only ones permanently living there. Natasha and Clint came and went depending on missions, Thor spent half his time back home, and Captain Rogers was trying to travel his way through the whole planet, but he came once in a while. Phil couldn't wait to see his hero again, and hoped he wouldn't be a squirrel anymore when it happened.
OOOOOOOOOOO
Two weeks after, Bruce and Tony brought Phil the Squirrel down to a lab, but him in a weird looking tank, who did something too bright and a bit painful, but honestly, Phil didn't care. Because at the end of it, he was human.
Bruce handed him some clothes, with the air of the man who knows exactly how if feel to find yourself naked in front of a lot of people after a weird transformation.
Pepper and-to his never ending surprise- Natasha hugged him, and Stark's girlfriend's eyes were misty. The billionaire grinned, and boasted, and pranced around the room, pausing for a quarter of second to clasp Phil shoulder with a mutter that could either be "Glad you're back man" or "You looked better as a squirrel." Phil wasn't sure which option he was more comfortable with.
Clint merely nodded, and grinned.
"Glad you're back, sir."
Coulson nodded in answer, deciding his rant about hierarchy respect, and how it should always be applied, never mind the physical form of the superior could wait.
"Glad to be back, agent."
Finally, Dawn yapped happily, and jumped on Phil's right shoulder., and the agent was relieved to see they could still understand each other as well as they ever had.
Yeah. Normal lives were definitely over rated.