The coffee in question was nicely black and strong, which Maria maintained was the best way to keep everyone from poaching her coffee, and anyways, the days she had meant she needed something that wasn't the blasphemy of decaf. At least the Helicarrier ran on the same hours she did: everyone needed to be alert in and around the flight deck and medical wing - and the science labs bounced even without caffeine - so at least she was assured of a refill at some time.
Connor was an agent, and he wasn't an agent; not an official part of SHIELD, come up through the Academy, but certainly connected to them and close enough to fall under a generic heading to make definitions easy. That definition meant that politeness had Maria raising her eyebrows slightly, and wanting to round up the majority of her agents (and archers) to take notes.
He didn't flex the hand when asked to evaluate it, which Maria took to be a good sign; testing how much it hurt could be a reflex, but sometimes it was far better to do everything possible to speed recovery by following orders. "Do you have a plan of action until then?" she asked. It was a little soon for him to have given it very much thought, of course, but she wanted and needed to know.
"Monkey Fist Cult," Maria repeated flatly, and took a long drink of her coffee to cover the likewise-reflexive query if he was serious. "Personal - so he meant you as you and not you as a member of SHIELD? Why?" Turning slightly, she snagged a passing person in scrubs. "You heard him - suicide watch on the prisoner. Though I tend to be much more concerned if they get it into their head to harm someone else," she added casually.