"No, that's -- actually just a /normal/ field operation."
<NYC> S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ - Times Square
The pair of junior agents hastily dispatched at the front desk to escort Steve are struggling to keep up as he sweeps down the corridor toward Nick Fury's office. One of them has been trying to explain that the Director might not be in at this moment, but that someone has been sent to speak on his behalf. Steve only gives a single tight nod by way of reply, his entire carriage perhaps made more severe by being dressed all in black -- though his button-down and slacks are meant as uniform for Montagues and not a covert international espionage agency where everyone is also wearing black.
Steve throws open the door to the director's office and storms in. The corner office is big, bright and airy, which is not cheap to come by in midtown Manhattan. On one side, a huge glass desk sits in front of the floor-to-ceiling window looking out over Times Square. The far corner has a leather couch, a coffee table, a liquor cabinet and a sideboard, but the rest of the floor space was left open between bookshelves.
Fury is not behind his desk. In fact, /no/ one is behind the desk. There is, however, an agent standing kind of awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding a plain matte black travel mug. He looks almost aggressively unremarkable: average height, average build, light skin, dark brown hair heavily receded, wearing a perfectly tailored yet generic black suit. Despite apparently having been sent here specifically to receive Steve, he looks a bit poleaxed when the man actually enters the room, eyes widening and mouth opening. "Hi," he says, then winces slightly. "Welcome back, Captain Rogers."
Steve's eyes narrow at the agent. "Thank you. I need to speak to Nick Fury." He holds up a forestalling hand before Coulson or the agents escorting him can launch into more excuses. "If he is not available, then someone directly answerable to him and empowered to make decisions about your organization's field operations." He raises his eyebrows slightly at Coulson. "Would that be you?"
"My name is Agent Coulson." Coulson winces again. "I mean, my name is Phil Coulson. /Agent/ Phil Coulson." His eyes close for a brief moment and he looks like he'd really prefer to just sink into the floor now. "I'm afraid Director Fury is in a meeting that I'm absolutely not allowed to interrupt for anything short of an extinction-level event." He chuckles here, then stops, self-conscious. "He might be in it for most of the day." Now he perks up a little. "But, I do report to Director Fury, and I'm also the agent in charge of special field operations, so if you'd like to have a seat, maybe we can discuss your concerns?" He gestures hopefully at the sitting area.
"Agent Coulson," Steve repeats, a dangerous edge beneath the calm of his voice. "I don't think this is the kind of conversation we have sitting down. Does one of your /special/ field operations involve sending armed men after kids to retrieve my shield?" His hands clench into fists, then deliberately unclench again.
Coulson's mouth opens again, eyes growing wider. "Oh! Um. No, that's -- actually just a /normal/ field operation. I do not have direct oversight on it, but I assure you the agent in charge is very conscientious and would not authorize any undue violence --"
"Call. Them. Off." Steve's words come out between gritted teeth. "I don't care how /conscientious/ he is. I don't care if it isn't your department. I know how these things work. Pull rank, pull favors -- have the quartermaster refuse to issue their gear if that's what you need to do, but /call them off/." He takes one step toward Coulson, voice dropping back into flat calm again. "If your agents hurt so much as a hair any of those kids, as God is my witness, I will take S.H.I.E.L.D. down." He turns on his heel and walks back out without waiting for his escort.
Coulson's mouth works like a beached fish. He doesn't actually succeed in answering the ultimatum with /words/, but only manages a kind of distressed "uh" as Steve departs again. He makes a shooing motion at the junior agents to indicate they should go after their guest, then just remains standing in the middle of the director's office. "Oh, boy," he says, taking a sip from his mug.