"Hmm. I could use some quiet after this." It had been a rather hectic year. But he didn't have netflix in mind. He was thinking instead of meditation and still ponds and the little zen garden at the brownstone. He'd been around people he wouldn't have chosen for company for a while. Proud people. Cocky people. People who liked violence. People who liked to watch violence and bet on violence. He leaned back and closed his eyes briefly.
He turned his head to look at Bobbi, listening quietly, accepting the words for what they were and their many possibilities of what was unsaid. He'd been informed what could happen to agents who had blown cover. They had talked to him about what to do if he faced torture, how to cope. They had also told him some people, even if they survived, never recovered. Bobbi had survived her cover being blown, but he wasn't going to press for the details of what exactly she had survived. It was past and Bobbi wasn't offering to revisit it, so he wasn't going to invite himself there. So instead he said, "I'm glad they got you out."
Then she noted the psych eval. Connor laughed a little. "Oh, I didn't think about that. Are the evaluations really as bad as people hint?"
He looked to his hand and thought about Bobbi's maneuvering about the injuries and the medical jargon she'd used. "And you, you could be in a lab... But you like field work?"