Smooth Operator.

05. An Alliance Forms

"You see, I know we're on differing sides in this scenario – you being hired by The White Death, and me hired by some guy who isn't The White Death – but I think we should help each other."

"Help each other?" Tangerine rang in. "Are you fuckin' dumb, help each other? You're fuckin' tapped if you think—"

"Shut it!" Lemon groaned, sending his brother a sharp kick in his shin, to which Tangerine reacted much like a toddler not taught how to behave yet; by kicking back and grumbling to himself with his arms crossed. The fruit opposite Estela rolled his eyes but continued. "How do you know about us working for The White Death, anyway?"

Estela chuckled, a genuine smile breaking through the tension. "I was sitting right behind you guys, and you're not exactly quiet, Mister Thomas the Tank Engine."

At this small comment, Lemon cracked a smile. "Oh, you 'eard all that, yeah? I've still yet to decide what you are. But, trust, I will; I've got my stickers on me and I'll give you yours once I figure you out."

"Enough Thomas, alright?" Tangerine whined, running a hand over his face. He turned in his seat to look at Estela. "Can you get to the fuckin' point already? So far, you've taken our case and lost it, and now you come over 'ere when we've got just enough on our fuckin' plate, to tell us that you've lost our god damn case, and then you ask to fucking help us?"

Both Estela and Lemon stared over at Tangerine, jaws slack in awe at his outburst. "Uh..."

Black Cat swallowed her awe and nodded. "Basically, yeah."

"Well, fan-fucking-tastic," the moustached man grumbled as he swivelled back in his chair to face the Momonga-faced Russian.

A silence occupied the trio for a moment, before Estela raised a hand to point at the Russian. "What– What happened to him?" She asked, filling in the awkward gap.

"No fuckin' clue," Lemon replied with a tight-lipped sigh. "We went away from our seats for all of two minutes, and when we came back he had all this blood shit running from his eyes. What a piss-take. We're all gonna lose our arms."

He leaned back in his chair, bringing his great hands to cover his face as he let out an even greater groan, earning a couple annoyed glances from some passengers.

"No, but–" Estela grimaced, crossing one of her legs over the other as she tried to think of a plan. "If we work together, you know, like join forces and shit, then we can find this briefcase. When we find it, it just depends on who keeps it, you know?"

The woman looked between the two fruits expectantly, who shared their own look, as if communicating telepathically.

Then Tangerine looked over at her. "Alright then, love, we'll make a deal with you," he began, tone much softer than before, but one that still left Estela's ears ringing. "We work together to find this briefcase that rightfully belongs to us, and when we find it we get it back, but we give you a little bit of the credit."

Estela let out a scoff before the man could even finish his sentence. "Well, no," she replied almost immediately. "I need to get that case back to my contractor."

"And we need to get that case back to The White Death."

Just so much as hearing his name caused Estela's mouth to run dry, and she swallowed thickly.