As far as Teddy knew, General Fury was kind of always like this. That was, making him nervous. He had yet to distinguish the nuances of all the individual ways he could be made nervous. He was pretty sure this kind of distinction didn't really matter as, after all, this nervousness was an obvious one: he had completely and totally messed up his very first, totally easy mission-more-like-vacation-- how do you mess up a vacation?
Teddy had figured out a way, somehow, and now he was going to be whatever the secret agent equivalent of fired was. Removed From Service. Removed From Existence.
Oh, God, Wanda was touching him, she knew, too. He grimaced at her, eyes as wide as saucers, wrist flexing under her hand as his balled into a tight fist. "I'm really sorry?" he tried preemptively, hoping that would soften the blow enough so that he at least didn't start crying.