in which el profesor had made clear that personal relationships would be the downfall of his immaculate heist; no one seemed to care
cairo went into the heist with the sole intention of saving her brother; so why was it that she was leaving the roya...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Cairo leant back into the cold grey wall behind her, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. The jostling of the moving vehicle just about managed to mask the slight nervous shake in her leg but her mask was still in her lap so there was nothing she could yet do about the crease in her brow or the down turned corner of her lip.
Across from her, Tokyo sat with her legs crossed, apparently relaxed as she applied yet another coat of her red lipstick onto her already bright crimson lips.
Everyone has a different way of hiding their nerves, she thought to herself, slightly less nervous at the sight of the supposedly fearless Tokyo slowly screwing the lid back onto her lipstick.
"Who chose these masks?"
Every member of the van turned their heads to stare at Rio as he anxiously stared down at the Dali mask, passing it back and forth between his left and right hand.
"What's wrong with them?" Moscow asked.
"They're not scary," Rio began to explain. "In every movie I've ever seen the robbers wear scary masks. Zombies...skeletons...the angel of death-"
Cairo sighed heavily and shook her head as Berlin whipped his gun out from his holster, knocking her arm in the process, already tuning out what the older man had to say. No doubt he had another speech prepared on the intricacies of romance or something of the sort.
"Berlin," she interrupted him sharply. "Do you have these fucking speeches prepared? I mean do you write them out in a little diary and whip them out-"
"Hey, hey. Enough."
Cairo grunted as Moscow glanced over at Berlin just as he began to point the gun at her instead.
"Who's this guy with the mustache anyway?"
"Jesus Christ, Denver," Roma finally lifted his head up from his fist, stretching his legs out in front of him. "It's Dali. One of the most celebrated Spanish painters ever."
"A painter?" Denver looked at him blankly. "Like a painter who paints."
Cairo giggled softly, her nerves starting to ease off as Roma dropped his head onto her shoulder with a groan.
