By the way she clapped her hands and went back to staring at the singer on stage, not in the least bit deflated, Bobbi might not have heard it at all. Coulson's fate was sealed, and it clearly either involved a number on stage or Bobbi pestering him about it until she forgot, which would take years. She could be a grudge-holder. The pestering was going to start out sweet, though.
Her hands still propped up and clasped together, she rested her cheek on them to bat her eyelashes at Coulson, wondering if that sort of thing even worked on him. Torture didn't, so it had to take a softer touch. "I'll pick up your drycleaning," she offered, which should have sounded real good to a guy who just got inked.