Getting off a shot in the cemetery wasn't actually as convenient as it seemed, and otherwise pretty heavy for a funeral if they were trying to believe all of that peace and rest crap. Getting held up did, at least, save Bobbi from coming up with a fast answer to 'did you know her?', because she wasn't always personally sure and it got too existential for a sly retort. Maybe she should start a diary. She flinched when she turned to this new voice and found herself staring down a barrel, raising her empty hands innocently, fingers spread and elbows squeezed to her sides to cringe apologetically and completely disingenuously for her imagined crimes. Whatever they were, they shouldn't have involved firearms, but S.H.I.E.L.D. agents didn't have a whole lot of range in their problem solving set.
And this one was definitely a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
"There's a thousand people here," she added, because while it wasn't a wrong one and that might have been what made this agent so legendary, it was kind of a leap to assume Bobbi was here for the funeral. "I just came to pay my respects, to my--" she said, backing away slowly and carefully to try to get a look at the stone Mr. Questions was using as a bench and read
STEWART REEDS 1894-1942
Great. "War hero." His approach was probably better. Bobbi gestured to her guy, a knowing point because he was clearly wise and posed a very good question that deserved a measured response.