Despite how inherently she lacked one of her own, being around The White Death's family had never made her yearn for a family of her own. Of course she's well aware that they're not exactly the model of a perfect, healthy family dynamic, but it really was all she had to go on -
[I know he's here.] Case and point, The Prince had been sending increasingly cryptic texts that Clementine could only assume was about her brother. The Prince had a way of knowing things, and more infuriatingly, jumping to conclusions based on Clementine's non-answers that were correct a frustrating amount of time.
"What have you done now -?" Clementine had answered The Prince's phone call with her patience wearing thin.
"I've found the case, our friend is just now working on getting it open for us," The Prince says, reminding Clementine of the hollow-eyed Yuchi who had tailed after The Prince into the bar cart looking like he was already half way to giving up, "and I do worry when you speak to me like that," The Prince continues with faux concern, "imagine if someone heard you talking to your poor, sweet client like that; it'd certainly blow your cover." As if she even cares about how Clementine speaks over the phone to her for the benefit of Clementine, as if she didn't simply take any opportunity she could to exert even some small amount of control over her bodyguard.
"I'm coming to check on you -"
"So proud of you for remembering to do your job," immediately The Prince fired back, voice all but dripping with sarcasm, and Clementine knows she's rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.
"Ma'am I was following your instructions of distracting the man in the blue suit."
"I didn't think you'd go on for this long."
"So you're calling me to come back because you do actually want me around?"
"Don't flatter yourself; Mister Kimura has hundreds of combinations to go through on that suitcase and I'm rather bored," at least her tone matched her words, coming with a faint, exasperated sigh.
"I struggle to believe you're yearning for my companionship in this moment," Clementine deadpans, and much to her surprise, The Prince laughs, the sound bright and genuine on the other end of the line.
"Of course not!" The Prince practically crows, though the levity dies out, "however I would like to have a serious conversation with you about withholding important information, and you not doing that again."
About a million different things run through Clementine's head at once, all most certainly incriminating, and all things she'd take to her grave. However she knows better than to panic in this moment, remembering the girl's earlier text messages.
"There are things you don't need to know, ma'am," Clementine tells her gently, all the while thinking - how was I meant to tell you that yes your brother is here, but he's dead!?
"Agree to disagree, fruit fly," and The Prince hangs up. Fuck. How would she even know about her brother being aboard the train? The girl has always known far too much, even for her resources.
As a child she'd had this insatiable curiosity that had made Clementine wary when they'd first met. The Prince had always seemed like she'd been starved for information, never giving a real reason as to why she'd poke and prod and investigate so thoroughly for someone her age. Information gathering for it's own sake, her father had always showered her with affection for her persistent nature.
"What's wrong with you?" Was the first thing The Prince had ever said to Clementine.
In The White Death's office, the next room over, The Son was arguing with his father about the budget they'd been allocated for Clementine's wardrobe and how he believed it wasn't enough to dress her like a believable socialite. Of course Clementine couldn't care less about how she's dressed as long as she's able to do her job; some of the dresses The Son had picked out hadn't exactly been conductive to some the more physical aspects of her job, but they hadn't stopped her either.
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it's in my nature {Tangerine | Bullet Train}
FanfictionTangerine doesn't say that he's still feeling a smidge of guilt on the off chance he thinks about that civilian he inadvertently got killed back in New York, because he doesn't feel guilt. Maybe he feels a bit responsible; she was targetted because...
