it's in my nature {Tangerine | Bullet Train}

eight. tangerine. fury, one-sided against a revelation.

In the grand scheme of how today was going, Clementine's cryptic bullshit ranks incredibly low on Tangerine's list of priorities. As soon as they get through this shitshow of a train ride, he'll have all the time in the world to try and figure out what she's saying and if he even cares, but so long as she was no longer and immediate threat to him, he could focus on this plan they'd cobbled together.

And his still fucking unconscious brother.

"In your professional, medical opinion -" Tangerine muttered as they approached, though Clementine was quick to cut him off.

"Slap him."

"Obviously I was joking."

"I wasn't."

Despite his sarcasm, she did have a point, and Tangerine slaped his brother with the kind of force guaranteed to wake him up. Lemon, successfully awoken by the sudden impact, acted on instinct, startled, and slapped Tangerine back in kind. Probably should have expected that. The force was enough to stumble Tangerine, who chose the path of least resistance in that moment as he sunk into the seat beside Lemon.

Unfortunately the minute Lemon sees Clementine, he's frantically checking his holster and pockets, equal parts wide-eyed and startlingly furious. By the time he was swearing a blue streak under his breath it was clear that his weapon was missing, though Clementine remained unperturbed. At least by him.

She's looking at The Son, slumped back against his seat against the window, the glasses at an unnatural angle on his face. There's something surprisingly pensive about her expression.

"The fuck is she doing here?" Lemon hissed, unarmed, only able to settle for resting both his hands upon the table, flexing and unflexing his hand into fists.

"Helping," Tangerine admitted begrudgingly.

"Helping?! She turning herself in or something?"

Clementine is frowning now, but still looking at the candid corpse.

"She didn't do it," Tangerine sighed.

"What is wrong with you?" Lemon sounded like he had aged ten years thanks to that one sentence, "no seriously, what is actually wrong with you?"

"You wanna chime in here?" Tangerine finally glowers at Clementine, only to watch her carefully lift the obnoxious glasses they'd given The Son, "Clementine." Tangerine's tone was sharp enough to startle the operative out of her investigation; The Son's eyes were still bleeding, just a little. Those glasses needed to stay in place.

"What?" Clementine's equally firm tone was unexpected, as was her scowl, and neither brother knew quite what to say in that moment. After a beat, Clementine looked back at The Son, but left him be, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, "how did you say he died?"

"Actually we didn't," Tangerine points out, as Lemon actually rolls his eyes.

"As if you don't know."

"You wanna reassure him you're not a threat, or are you happy making me look like a fuckin' idiot for sticking my neck out for you?" Tangerine tries again, and this time, when Clementine looked at him, her expression softened just a little.

"Tangerine's right," she says, soft but sure, before she turned her focus to his brother, "he's right," firmer that time, she takes a moment under Lemon's skeptical gaze to straighten her posture, "we'd fallen out of each other's good graces, sure but I didn't want the White Death's son dead. I've already lost enough fingers for that family."

It takes Lemon several moments of unconvinced silence to turn Clementine's words over in his mind before it clicks. He shoots a look at Tangerine as if to confirm his suspicions, to confirm that it had been Clementine that The Son's earlier horror story had been referencing, and with his brothers grim nod, everything in that moment changed.