It's night

Nobody will ever accuse you of not being careful enough. Actually, that psychobitch does every single time she shows up on your six. So does Safety First... Well, this time you're gonna play it safe. You're gonna be absolutely and completely certain that nothing is amiss or at all out of place here. After several moments of standard casing procedure you get bored and stroll on in. You've checked enough. It's bloody empty. Nothing amiss? More as if nothing here at all. No signs of anything. It's like he walked out for a smoke and forgot to turn the open sign to closed. It's then that you see him walk back in. You hazard the question. He blinks at you and asks why you're so concerned, your gun isn't supposed to be done for another week. It's the what of what month now? Another week? Really? Come now, he said it, didn't he? You ask him if anything else is up. Other than you suddenly showing a scrap of modesty, no he informs you rather derisively. What a tosser. Time is... fuckdrinkingcuntwagons, you're gonna miss your flight. Apparently, you're a lot worse at the whole judging time thing than you'd thought. You should probably

[] give up and hit the bar.
[] run to the airport.
[] ask Calvin to borrow his car.

 

[] ask Calvin to borrow his car.

 

[] ask Calvin to borrow his car.

 

You're not gonna make it on foot. Well, not gracefully at least and you hate looking sweaty and gross upon arrival. He he. Anyhow, Calvin's got a car and you've got a request. Which is promptly denied. He likes you, you're his best customer, you're also very pretty (you added that one), but he says no. Why's that? You're not a licensed driver, that's why. Right... You actually suck at pretty much everything that isn't related to killing people or you know. So what are you gonna do now? This is a real friggin' embarrassment, mate. A real friggin' embarrassment. Calvin says you should learn to plan better. You tell him to stuff it and drive you since it's technically not really but kinda in a contrived way if you look at it slanty get drunk and slap yourself in the face with a tuna seven times type dealio, manner or fashion is his fault you're late. He grudgingly agrees. You know two really good reasons why he agreed but you're not letting either out at the moment. Gotta play it casual like you don't actually want it. What were you doing before? Right, going to the airport to get revenge on those bitches for fucking with you. Rain the molten hot lead of justice on their heads and all that fanfare and jazz hands.

When you arrive at the airport, you're a little later than you'd like but you might make it anyway. Here's hoping. You

[] Rush to the plane in the most direct manner possible, push people out of line where necessary.
[] Wait patiently for your turn.
[] Flirt, bribe and sneak through as fast as possible. Keep a low enough profile so as not to set off anyone's radar.

 

[] Flirt, bribe and sneak through as fast as possible. Keep a low enough profile so as not to set off anyone's radar.

I want to see how far we can go.

 

[] Flirt, bribe and sneak through as fast as possible. Keep a low enough profile so as not to set off anyone's radar.

 

Now this is a time for you to shine. You might be wearing the nerd girl sweater and librarian skirt, but you're doing this. You're making it happen. You sidle up next to some schmuck and nudge him softly, gently, innocently and then boom, you're in front of him. You stay close, almost cozy like for a bit, let him stay surprised, let him appreciate you for a moment before slipping out of his drab, dull world forever. Oh, god, you're good. You scare yourself a little bit with how good you are. It's like you're some kind of weird sexy, awesome, swagnasty, bitchy chick. Awwwwwwwwww. Hell, YEAH!

Compose yourself. Keep going. Alright. You've made it past the first line. You get past security just as easy. They guy accepts your tickets without so much as a tug at the bottom of your sweater. You're just that good. No. No more massive self aggrandizing rants in your own damn head. You have a job to do, chica. So you have made up your lost time with your awesome sexiness. Now you're about to board the plane, it is so close you can taste it. Well not actually, plane probably tastes like metal because that's what it is. Metal. Big metal air foils. That taste like-- whoa buddy-- that's not what you're supposed to do. You

[] smack this wanker a real nice one.
[] act demure and blushy.
[] you sure you're not sick, because that shoulder is cold.

 

[] you sure you're not sick, because that shoulder is cold.

 

[] you sure you're not sick, because that shoulder is cold.

 

You aren't about to less the arse get his way. You do check your pockets discreetly to make sure he hasn't off and half inched anything. Other than that, you're cool and icy like a demon from northerly folklore. The Queen Hel, herself. You are undoubtedly-- oh what the fuck, he just keeps touching! Alright, this sorry old sod has made his last mistake of the day. You're gonna make him wish he was born a woman.

Spoiler

When you actually bother to turn around though your spiteful expression fades into a slightly dazed smile. The most exciting time of the day has finally come. It's only your favorite person EVER. Best friend, best benefits. He may be Asian but-- ANYWAY! Leadfoot is pretty much the most capital fellow in all of ever. He's your preferred partner in crime and other things more fun other things... Wipe your damn mouth, girl. He's wearing his trademark shit eating grin and copping another feel. You don't really mind anymore but there is the question of why he's here. That is a good question. One that must be asked. But first

[] Say, "Hi."
[] Smack him in the face.
[] Tackle hug.

 

[] Smack him in the face.

 

[x] Smack him in the face.

 

Just because he's your biffles and your chuffed to see him doesn't mean he can get away with messing with you like that. After all, you're the queen and he's your jester. That's right, just there to entertain you... You're going to have to stop doing that. Seriously. SERIOUSLY. Okay so where were you? Oh right.

Spoiler

That felt good. It was more of a cross than a slap, but he's used to it by now. Least he should be. The people around you kind of stare but when he just rubs his cheek casually and grins that shit eating grin of his. He finally says a proper hello and asks if he can get you a drink. You inform him (probably unnecessarily) that you kind of have something of a plane to catch at some time maybe. He smiles and asks if it's about Snowflake. What does he know that you don't? Seriously. SERIOUSLY. You ask him in a direct as possible paraphrasing of that sentiment. Plus some colorful language like sod, wanker, tosser, twat and bitch. He laughs and says that she's already probably on her way over by now. What? There are a lot of questions running through your mind right now. Most foremost of which is probably the one about where she is. So you can

[] Talk to him about it and miss the plane.
[] Get on the plane, you've made your bed and now you'll lie in it.
[] Bring him for the ride.

 

[] Bring him for the ride.

 

[] Bring him for the ride.

 

It takes a moment to realise that the line has begun to move. The plane must be boarding. So now's the time to decide.

Spoiler

With a devil wicked grin plastered on your face you take his arm and begin leading him onwards in spite of his protests. He tries to bring up this shit called "logic" but you know better than he could possibly know. IT'S TIME FOR SOME MAXIMUM CHRISTMAS! Where did that come from? Seriously. SERIOUSLY. Irregardless, you're going to show him. Hah! Wait. Wait. Wait. He just said she was on her way here. Meaning that you'd cross paths in midair. Meaning you'd not get her. WHY IS SHE COMING HERE!? He manages to free himself and explain in hushed tones that there's a job. A big one. She's coming here for it. Sour Kraut and Safety First also. In fact that's why he's here.

[] Whut?
[] MAXIMUM CHRISTMAS!
[] Maybe you need to listen a bit more.

 

[] Maybe you need to listen a bit more.

 

Okay. Realtalk: You need to start talking to real people and stop having these rambling and attention consuming inner dialogues with yourself. The vacant blonde look works for you and all, but you need to set your priorities in order. This is like a job, your wits need to be directly adjacent to you at all times. All times. Now get back in there and start listening. You are fabulous enough to make this work. Now go. You start listening to his logicshit argument and then pull the both of you out of line and start walking back to the front exit/entrance. What makes it an-- what did you just say? Onward then. Listening. Got it. The gist, as you understand it is this, Snowflake and Sour are both on the job and coming back here. Well not here, here. But Bristol which is on the right island. You also hear from your good buddy that Safety First and Francophone were slated from interview. You ask him how he knows all of this stuff and he laughs. You don't like the sound of it. You don't like be laughed at period. So you punch him in the arm rather harder than you hit him in the face. He shuts up and texts you something. It's a link to some AR app. He smiles and says that someone's been using this to communicate with him. It's kind of one sided and weird but the person, whoever it is, seems to know what's up. He only came to see you because of that app and the vid he saw in it yesterday. You frown. You tell him that tech isn't your thing and wave your old clamshell phone at him. He smiles and says he'll share his. That's when you break the news that you turned down the job and you were actually just going over there to get back at them for hiring Snowflake instead of you. He frowns in thought. Leadfoot isn't one to think much. So, when he is thinking, you worry.

Finally he tells you that you should probably see if you can get that changed. Whoever it is hiring all of them is top tier money and turning them down might be dangerous. People who look for the best want the best. If they don't get what they want, well, you know how people can get. True enough. You're sitting in a cafe by now. How you got here with an iced coffee and a hot chocolate between you is a little hazy. Dividing your attention between two things isn't exactly your strong suit. You see the plane you were going to get onto overhead. You

[] Leave now, you've got some thinking to do.
[] Stick with Leadfoot, he's legit.

 

[] Leave now, you've got some thinking to do.

 

[] Leave now, you've got some thinking to do.