"They've got a wanted poster up for you," Rumi informed him, taking the steps into the penthouse they were holed up in two at a time. Her tail flicked behind her, showing that she was agitated.
Fletcher looked up from his sniper rifle, wincing at the news. He hadn't thought the op had gone that badly, but apparently he'd been wrong. "Really?" He tried, going for humour. "Does it look like me at all? They usually get the nose wrong."
"Be serious," she chastised sharply, giving him a look. He held up his hands in surrender, expression unrepentant but sobering. She flicked on the datapad screen and placed it in front of him, showing off the security footage of Fletcher's face.
"That's not good," he admitted. "Do we know why it went wrong?"
"Loran called in, he suspected the cell had a leak and now we've confirmed it."
"And I get thrown under the bus," he muttered, packing the rifle away. "I can't get off-world if my face is plastered everywhere." He picked up the 'pad, scrolling through the information on the wanted poster, tapping his fingers against the smooth table, considering his options.
Rumi began packing up the few things they had scattered around, mostly odds and ends of tech and weaponry from the op they'd been running. The fluttering of the light summer clothing she was packing up caught his eye.
"D'you have any more of those?" He asked, coming up next to her to finger the edges of the light dress.
"Are you serious?" Rumi remarked, but complied, moving to her own luggage and digging through it, tail lashing out as she sifted through her selection.
"It's this or hiding in a ditch waiting to get shot. Got any nice heels? I hear they make your ass look fantastic," he remarked, leaning over her shoulder and poking through her clothing himself. Rumi herself descended into helpless laughter, falling into Fletcher's light hearted trap.
"Okay, fine, I think I can fix something up even for you..."
Later, a sufficient disguise having been put together, Fletcher adjusted the fake breasts they'd managed to conjure up. The dark blonde wig was doing most of the work in the transformation, the dress and fake breasts complimenting it. He'd been lucky that Rumi's shoulders were broad enough and he was lean enough to squeeze into it.
With some struggle Fletcher slipped his feet into the heels, cursing himself for even mentioning them as a joke. He did a shaky spin on the floor.
"How do I look?"
"Uncanny," she replied wryly, hiding a smile behind a hand. She was dressed to match, both of them looking like two women finishing their vacation. At least from a distance. "Your legs look great, though."
"They do, don't they?" He said, voice suitably admiring at his own transformation. He tilted his leg. "I'll have to sell this in body language too. Swing my hips, right?" He tested it, walking forward, feet shaking at every step.
"Right," she confirmed, openly laughing now.
