Not the subject change he expected, but he'd take it. Fury quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. "Had to save a stripper from pterodactyl-things a couple hours ago," he explained coolly, like it happened every day. Well, something fucked up happened frequently these days, so this story was still pretty low on the strange-meter for his life lately. "These fucking worm-holes," he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. He took a slug of his whiskey, and shook his head, allowing himself these few seconds to wallow in continued failure before he put on his grown ass man pants again and reassured himself with, "But we're working on it."