Got an issue with stalkers, abusive significant others? [Given enough evidence, Alex could detain them] Look, I'm trying to help here. You gotta give me something.
You sure? [Alex was offering; he might not know this guy's name but he viewed him a civilian. It was Alex's duty as DPD to assist Mr. Doe in any (legal) way]
Now look here. [Fits looks incredibly flustered by the show of intimidation, but the set of his shoulders is suddenly very, very stubborn regardless.] There will be no existential weirdness in my lab, you hear me? This is a place of science, and fact. So either you're who I'm meant to be kitting up and I'll have more guns for you than you know what to do with, or you're not and I'll, I'll... call for backup.
(He had expected the curly haired man to stand down. Maybe even cower. This reaction was impressive given that he could probably snap him like a twig.) Bucky Barnes. (The name felt weird as it left his mouth.)
[Thank god for that. Fitz could guess his chances against the big guy, and they aren't particularly favorable to his ego.] Good. Now, these little beauties are ICERs. They've got non-lethal Dendrotoxin-filled bullets that break up beneath the skin without causing appreciable internal damage, so when we decide to shoot first, we still get to ask questions later. [He flicks the light on the table stocked with several different versions of the ICERs with a look of supreme self-satisfaction.] So, what kind of sidearm do you prefer? [His eyes drop down to Bucky's metal arm almost against his will and he winces.] I mean, handgun. Weapon. [Lord, this is why he needs Simmons around to stop him talking to strange people.]
(To be entirely honest Bucky still preferred lethal weapons to anything else. There was not always a reason to asks questions whether it was before or after the attack. Some times there was too much risk in letting there be an asks questions later. Still he looked over the guns on the table while attempting to ignore Fitz's rambling about his arm.
He picked up a gun with his metal arm and just for fun checked out the scope by aiming it at Fitz.)
[Fits jumps about half a foot, staring down the barrel of the gun like a deer caught in the headlights. It's just that he's had a lot of people try to shoot him lately, and it certainly hasn't made his list of favorite things yet. The fact that he knows this gun is non-lethal is a very, very slight comfort, and his voice is rather unfortunately shrill when he protests.] Hey! What do you think you're doing? Don't point that bloody thing at me!
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