Fury can’t get the goddamned logistics to work out.
It shouldn’t be fucking hard—all he wants is to get one small cat (cat-like being) from his office to one place in New York. This should take nothing more than one phone call to Romanov.
Romanov isn’t answering her phone. Fury knows why, understands why, and still wishes she could save the goddamned heart-to-heart with her partner for some time when the world isn’t ending.
Romanov leaves in the quinjet with Barton and Rogers. Fury goes to talk to the motherfucking World Security Council again. Goose stays in his office.