living room; open
Dinner. They'd be having dinner. And he was expected not to take a single weapon with him. He had been antsy from the moment they left their own apartment--slightly early, Agent Barnes thought, just in case.
He wasn't sure that his handler completely understood what taking away his weapons would mean for Agent Barnes' ability to protect the individuals at the party. Perhaps it was an oversight, or a test. Either way, he intended not to fail. So he'd cleaned and stripped his weapons, left them in a neat row on his bed so that there was no doubt about whether he was or was not armed.
The further from their apartment--and by extension his personal arsenal--they got, the more uncomfortable Agent Barnes became, until they were following a woman with short hair into the other apartment. She looked like Agent Jefferson's blonde female associate. He kept his face carefully blank as he stepped in behind Agent Jefferson. The door swung mostly closed behind him, and he pushed it backward with his foot until it closed.
Easily defensible, yes. He hovered by the door, waiting for further instructions; pleasantries, after all, were for Agent Jefferson and his associates. Orders, when they came, would be for him. Still, he nodded what amounted to a greeting at both the short-haired female and the one he knew as Ruby. He had an idea that that was expected.