“James,” Agent Barnes said. It seemed like a safe enough name to share; it was one of those common names like John. He had already exposed the use of the agent title, but he did not have to give away his surname. Then again, the incompetent agent had specifically told him that if anyone asked, his name was Agent James Barnes. He supposed that 'anyone' included the duplicate Hansel. “Barnes. James Barnes.”
He dropped his hand away, satisfied that Hansel had no intention of walking away with questions unanswered now. “I've been trained for a specific purpose.” He hesitated, and then asked, “Is there something wrong with the way I talk?”
Agent Barnes almost corrected the double. He hadn't been on a roof. He'd been very sensibly perched on a fire escape. But something told him that Hansel didn't really care where he'd been so much as he cared for the reason why the behaviour was there. “I'm following orders,” he said. “I don't nest.” (And what sort of question was that, anyway?)