Coulson was somewhat helpless. For a moment, this uncooperative attitude even reminded him of Tony Stark—just as arrogant.
Still, it was not a complete loss. Judging by the other man's manner, the Deathstroke he called "master" was, if nothing else, very wealthy. Coulson had seen plenty of rich people like that.
With this small gain, perhaps he could slowly piece together more clues in the future and deduce Deathstroke's true identity. Then he could get promoted and earn a raise, become the overall commander, take office as Deputy Director, marry Melinda, and reach the pinnacle of life!
So Coulson did not feel embarrassed. He simply smiled and stepped back.
"Want me to sneak a look at his face?" Yo-Yo lowered her voice and whispered to Coulson.
Her ability was perfect for stealing things. Snatching away the cloth covering his face and putting it back would take only an instant.
Coulson shook his head and grabbed Yo-Yo to stop her from acting rashly. "It's useless. He's still a minor, and his appearance will definitely change in the future. The mystery of Deathstroke's identity has lasted nearly a century already. There's no need to pay a price just to prove this."
Yo-Yo shrugged indifferently. She had only made a suggestion, saying it because she was worried Coulson might lose face. Since he was still being rational, there was no need to say more.
As for the secrets of Mages and the Magic World, they had nothing to do with the Inhumans.
This was Siberia in winter. Even a gob of spit could freeze in midair. She was just an ordinary person and needed to keep moving to maintain her core temperature.
A few minutes later, the sunlight overhead was blocked. A massive aircraft dropped its stealth mode, kicked up huge amounts of