Coulson wished R&D put even a fraction of the time they put into inventing things like this into preemptive measures against viruses like this. Hell, they probably had, but clearly it hadn't done them any good. He nodded absently, adjusting the straps on his suit. Not the Hugo Boss. But the combat suit. He didn't remember the last time he'd had an opportunity to wear it. Control didn't generally need one. Neither did a liaison. He didn't even wear the vest under his suit most days.
All this gear had him feeling stuff and uncomfortable. Or maybe it was not knowing the fate of Morse and the idiot.