Pictures Of You ˚✧₊⁎ Robin Buckley

SEASON 3 || Codebreakers

I check my pocket watch for what feels like the billionth time before I angrily push open the door to the back room. "Harrington, you're now twenty minutes over your designated break time. Get back on the main deck sailor," I grab his hat off a storage shelf, shoving it into his chest.
A tape player is resting on the table with a weathered Russian-English dictionary next to it. I reach for the book, flipping through it while holding it out of Steve and Dustin's range.
"What are you doing back here? Is this about that Russian code you supposedly found?" I ask.
Before either of them can start Robin swings open the door with an ice cream scooper still in hand.
"All right babysitting time is over. You need to get in there." She crosses over to the whiteboard that's now remounted on the wall, covered in Russian characters. "Hey our board! That was important data shitbirds."
"I guarantee you, what we're doing is more important than your data."
"You think so?" I counter, tucking the book under my arm.
"And how do you know the Russians are up to no good anyways?"
"How do they know about the Russians?"
"I don't know," Steve responds with his mouth full of banana. Gross.
"You told her about—"
"It wasn't me!"
"You do realize you talk extremely loud right?" I deadpan.

"You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you're trying to translate but haven't figured out a single word because you didn't realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet. Sound about right?"
Both boys are dumbstruck at our confrontation, exchanging confused looks that we caught onto their idiotic plan.
I lightly punch her in the arm, "Look at you, Nancy Drew."
She smiles and we share a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between us. We simultaneously lunge for the tape player, but Steve beats us to it. He yanks it back, cradling it near his face.
"Why?"
"Cause maybe I can help. I'm fluent in four languages you know."
"Russian?" Dustin inquires.
"Ou-yay are-yay umb-day" she speaks, which really spells out you are dumb in Pig Latin. I snicker at her jab at the duo.
Both their expressions light up, impressed at her ability to speak a different language. "Holy shit!"
"That was Pig Latin, dinguses. I can speak Spanish and French and Italian, and I've been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me. Also with the insane amount of music Y/n listens to I'm sure she can pick up on any kinds of patterns."
A small feeling lights in my stomach at Robin's belief in me and the fact that she's including me in their antics.

"C'mon Steve, I was supposed to be on break twenty minutes ago. At this point I don't even need the credit, just let us translate. Please?"
Robin extends her hand out to Steve, waiting for him to pass over the tape player. I can hear Erica's incessant ringing of the bell we left out on the counter in the background as he swaps the player with the ice cream scooper.
I walk over to the storage shelf, grabbing my messenger bag before I sit down at the table. I fish out a pocket notebook and a pen. "So, who wants to listen first?"

--⋆♱✮♱⋆--

I slowly think I'm loosing my sanity after listening to the tape so many times. I can fully hear the message in my thoughts, jumbling into a rush of sounds that I can't identify. I slump against the tabletop as I twist a pen around my fingers. Robin paces back and forth in the limited space of the room while Dustin is in charge of rewinding the tape. I've been tasked with writing what we have solved due to having the clearest handwriting. Robin claims it to be an art form. Technically, she is right. The whiteboard has become a reference for me so I don't have to constantly be flipping through the book. I've noticed a few patterns, identifying some of the letters and sounds, along with faint notes of a song. I can't quite place it, but I've heard it somewhere before.

We've solved almost a whole sentence which has taken us a lot longer that I would like to admit.
"Wait that last part, one more time."
Dustin rewinds, garbled speech filling the room. The tape starts again with a soft click.
"Неделя длинная, серебряный кот ест—"
Robin interjects "Okay, that word, uhm... it's pronounced 'dly-nna-ya'."
"Dly-nna-ya, which would start with a d!" I snap my fingers at Dustin, who runs over to the whiteboard to find the correct character.
He excitedly points out a letter, "Ch-chair! The chair looking thing."
I quickly copy it down into my notebook, piecing together the first part of the phrase. We work through the rest of the sounds, coming up with the week is long.