"He hasn't noticed yet," Daisy agreed, her penetrative glare homing on on Hammer hamming it up for his adoring followers in the crowd. And she didn't mean just the bat loitering around his cheese table; so far, in either a spectacular display of complete fucking ignorance or some kind of bluff, Hammer hadn't seemed to notice that she was a level 10 teenager under the personal guidance of his not-carefully-enough disposed of predecessor. There was no possible way he didn't give a shit about losing (or never actually claiming) his prize, or the fact that Agent Johnson had an Agamotto level insight to the inner workings of the Directorate. Daisy wasn't sure what to make of that. Not that Coulson should give a shit.
"What's your excuse?" she challenged, slow to look back Coulson's way again. There must have been a bowl of Mars Bars back at his place gathering dust and waiting for him to have the time to inhale them all. Maybe in his desk drawer upstairs, Daisy didn't know the guy's candy secrets. She did know that he was a lower level and blended in like his face was a camouflage; if he insisted he had been to the party, most people would probably recall seeing him in a place he had never been.