The surveillance screenshot on the tablet's smooth screen lay between them like a cold verdict.
The grainy photo only made the two figures under the dim streetlights appear even more real.
Coulson didn't rush him, just watched him quietly.
His gentle gaze was like a shadowless lamp, illuminating all of William's pretenses and hopes of evasion.
Time stretched out to the lazy rhythm of jazz music.
Every second felt like it was dragging across sandpaper.
William suddenly laughed.
It wasn't his usual professional fake smile, but a defeated sigh of 'just end it already, I'm tired'.
He leaned back in his chair.
His body posture shifted from tense defense to relaxed offense.
"A terrible candid shot."
William picked up the coffee in front of him and drank it all in one gulp.
The cold liquid slid down his throat, making him incredibly sober.
"Your equipment needs an upgrade, Mr. Coulson. This resolution can't even capture the freckles on my client's face clearly."
Coulson's eyebrows subtly twitched, and a hint of surprise finally appeared on his face, which usually resembled that of a model citizen.
William didn't give him time to react, slamming the empty coffee cup down on the table with a 'thud'.
The crisp sound instantly interrupted the melodious saxophone, and even the couple at the next table, who were cooing at each other, instinctively glanced over.
"It seems Director Nick Fury isn't very pleased with my client list."
William's gaze, sharp as a needle, directly pierced Coulson's seemingly gentle eyes.
"So, you first investigated my background, and then a blonde beauty appeared, a Barbara Miller, who claimed to be a 'venture capital consultant'."
He deliberately drew out the name Barbara Miller, his tone dripping with undisguised sarcasm.
"Coincidentally, a few days later she became my neighbor. Even more coincidentally, on her first visit, she brought a bottle of '82 Lafite and told me, looking pitiful, that her corkscrew was broken."
William smiled and shook his head.
"Mr. Coulson, that was a screw-cap wine. Such a classic script, such uninspired props. Has your S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent training manual not been updated in thirty years? I almost wanted to give her a copy of my sales training manual; it would at least make her next opening line sound more sincere."
There was a moment of silence in the cafe; even the guests at the next table instinctively glanced over.
William ignored their stares, leaned forward, crossed his hands on the table, mimicking Coulson's previous posture, and pushed the invisible pressure right back at him.
"Now, you're sitting here. Phil Coulson, Nick Fury's most trusted man, is buying me coffee, showing me photos, and telling me bedtime stories."
"So, let's be frank. What exactly do you want?"
"Yes, my clients include Tony Stark, Matt Murdock, and maybe even that lunatic in a white suit talking to pigeons."
"I sell insurance, and they buy peace of mind. It's perfectly natural and fair to everyone. Is there anything wrong with that?"
"Or does 'risk management' in your S.H.I.E.L.D. charter mean only you are qualified to do it?"
A barrage of questions, like dense bullets, riddled the air between them.
The smile on Coulson's face completely vanished.
He showed no anger, nor the irritation of being exposed.
His expression became intensely focused, like a top chess player who had finally seen his opponent make an unexpected, yet logical, brilliant move.
"You've misunderstood, Mr. Rodriguez."
Coulson's voice returned to its steady, official tone.
"We're not questioning you. We're... evaluating you."
"Evaluating?"
William scoffed.
"Do you need a copy of my performance reports?"
"You're like a strange magnetic pole."
Coulson ignored the mockery and continued, unperturbed.
"All metals with anomalous energy are uncontrollably drawn to you. Vigilantes, billionaires... you are becoming the center of a vortex."
He picked up his coffee but didn't drink it.
He just looked at the bottomless black liquid in the cup.
"And S.H.I.E.L.D.'s duty is to ensure that this vortex doesn't drag the entire New York down with it."
William fell silent.
"Kilgrave was a threat. A threat that had to be eliminated."
Coulson's gaze returned to William's face.
"You and Miss Jones handled him. The method was very... clean. Cleaner than we expected. This 'cleanliness' itself is a more powerful force. A force we must understand."
"So, this is the purpose of today? A full background check, plus an informal interrogation?"
"No."
Coulson shook his head, then suddenly smiled. From the inner pocket of his well-tailored suit, he took out a completely black, unmarked metal card and gently pushed it across to William.
"We don't intend to arrest you, nor do we want to control you. That's too inefficient and too likely to cause unnecessary backlash."
A curve returned to Coulson's lips, but this time his smile was full of the flavor of a business negotiation.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. wants to be your client, Mr. Rodriguez."
"What?"
"You sell insurance, right? Providing security for special individuals, mitigating risks."
Coulson's fingers tapped lightly on the table.
The 'tap, tap' sound seemed to provide a soundtrack to his words.
"Then, in this World, is there any client more 'special' than S.H.I.E.L.D.?"
"We deal with crises capable of destroying the World."
"Our Agents walk the line between life and death every day. The risks we face far exceed those of any of your clients."
Coulson's tone carried a seductive quality.
"We want to purchase an insurance policy from you. An ultimate policy... for all of S.H.I.E.L.D., and even for this World."
The jazz music in the cafe had stopped at some point.
Outside, New York was still bustling, with traffic and crowds.
But in this small booth, William felt as if he could hear the gears of the Universe turning.
He looked at the blank metal card on the table, then at Coulson's face, which was full of 'sincerity'.
His brain finally rebooted, and a Spark of Inspiration, instead of merely bursting forth, exploded like a supernova.
An absurd, crazy, yet fatally attractive idea formed in his mind.
He slowly extended his hand, not touching the card, but pointing at it from a distance.
"A policy... can be discussed. But my services are very expensive, so expensive you'll question your life choices. Want to insure the World? Can you afford the premium?"
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