Of course not. [Crisp and sharp like the edge of a knife. She doesn't look at Parker as she raises the second bench, slides loose the joint holds and folds it back into its compartment.] But if something's going down, someone is listening. I don't know about you, but I'm not running my mouth right when someone else is probably waiting for it to happen.

[Blunt, but she doesn't know any other way to say it. Any theories she has - or John has, or Parker has or Steve goddamn Rogers has - are just houses built without any foundation. The difference is the rest of them are up off the beach; she's down on the sand, neck deep in suspicion as it is.

She clips the compartment straps around the folded bench, shuts the panel.]