Jasper Sitwell and OPEN
It had been months since Jasper Sitwell had been given unrestricted access to a network and unsupervised run of his quarters, even before it had been a thin illusion that SHIELD or HYDRA hadn't been tracking his moves both on and offline. Here was no different, perhaps even less of an illusion of privacy was extended, but the motive was more shadowy by its strangeness than the agencies that dealt in familiar and homey subterfuge. So as tempting as it was to re-immerse himself in the digital world, he decided this situation called for ground work.
After a shower, a shave, and a moment too long spent re-familiarizing himself with his own reflection, he had left the crutch in the room he was told was his, swapping his proper glasses out for the ones given to him. He didn't feel normal, exactly, but it was close.
Jasper wandered the block, keeping close to the walls like a cat as much for support as surveillance until he came into a space--a room-- with reasonable exit views, wood paneling, and bizarrely enough, a pool table. It was perfect: casual, inviting, with a stick to lean on, and involved enough that it wouldn't be obvious his intentions.
He began to gather balls and the triangle, rolling them to the center of the table.