Sitwell had gone silent, listening intently for some clue as to Mr. McCoy's intentions or emotional reaction to what should have been a really subtle tail, but Sitwell gathered quickly that the Beast must have been used to that. Ha, tail. Focus. Meanwhile, Sitwell's gaze lingered on the brief, and the details of Mr. McCoy's mutation, puzzling whether they could have accounted for the heightened senses more...well, at all, without relying on blending into the city din. That was his fault, poor planning. A thought for future tactical organization.
McCoy seemed amiable enough, though without a visual it was a challenge trying to discern whether his chosen phrases came with an edge of sarcasm. "If he pushes, be honest," Sitwell volunteered at his agent's prompting. "No harm in it now. Known history of vigilante activism, no public response to Hammer's dictator--tion." Whoops. "Dictation." That was a totally normal way to speak.