Just because he's traded stealth for expediency does not mean that he's thrown caution to the wind, nor his instincts. Protective spells flare and the bullets slam into a crackling shell of energy before dropping to the linoleum in a metallic clatter. It's only when the last tinny echo dies that he finally deigns to look at the man, eyes lidded to hide the burning impatience.

"Agent Coulson." It's said coolly, with the merest dip of his chin, as if they've merely chanced upon each other while walking down the street. As if he hasn't just gone and wasted an entire round of ammunition in an attempt to ventilate his skull. "If you're quite finished, I've business to attend to."