Scratch furrows his brow for a minute, then seems to have a moment of recognition. "That whole thing with Reed Richards and the square-headed--"
"The detective isn't qualified to make that kind of scientific distinction, young la--" Primm starts again, and this time Scratch bodily shoves him back towards the other men.
"Shut. UP." He meets the gaze of the suddenly tenser security agents, who are now being watched much more closely by the uniformed officers. Once the detective is convinced he's put that to one side, he turns back to Bea and nods his head. "Sorry about that, miss. I'm afraid I'm still going to have to search the premises though. We'll do our best not to make a mess." Another glance at the folder. "This... is kind of distinctive, and big enough it should be hard to miss."
He pauses, gives another pointedly unhappy look at Primm, then turns back to Bea. "And... if I found this thing and had any doubts about how accurate this description is--" He limply waves the folder in his hand. "--I think it'd be up the courts at that point."
If this really is where the Thunderbolts work out of, he's got no reason to light a fire under the ass of some people who've done good for the city so far.
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