Take Immediate Precaution If Threatening Weather Approaches.
Holy motherfucking balls, driving in a violent thunderstorm is fucking scary! We couldn't see out the windows, hail hit our car so hard that I thought it would dent it, and the lightning was close enough that I'd swear we were going to get zapped into a charred mess
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Jamie was usually fairly talented at maintaining a poker face during their investigations. Michael had seen new police officers crumble under his countenance. He'd seen witnesses spill forth about all the packs of gum they'd shoplifted since they were little. He was fairly certain he'd seen very stoic birds flock to sing Jamie's praises.
So it was safe to say that any sudden expression of emotion he produced would inevitably intrigue Michael.
(When on the job, at least. The minute they were off, Jamie could cut loose with the best of them. And had, actually.)
Like, for example, plucking a curious piece of paper from an emptied bank safe, reading it, and then bursting out laughing. The people around who knew him froze and watched him, concern etched onto their faces, but Michael had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what was making Jamie laugh.
Making his way through the crowd of onlookers, harried employees, and confused police, he came up to Jamie's side as the other man was settling down, wiping his eyes of mirth.
"Is it them?" Michael asked needlessly.
Jamie handed him the paper, shaking his head in undenied amusement, and said, "They're absurd."
There was a stick figure scene scrawled on the paper. Two stick figures stood tall, little black masks covering their eyes, fat bags of money in their hands. Two other figures bent from the waist in front of them, wearing familiar-looking hats, expressions on their faces that could only be interpreted as 'stick bliss'. An arrow was pointing to both sets, the standing stick figures labeled as 'Us' and the bending stick figures labeled as 'You'.
"We can rule out a history in the art world, then," Michael said finally, giving Jamie a helplessly perplexed look.
Jamie shielded another laugh into his fist.
"Do you think they got it?" Channing asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as they relaxed in their deluxe suite, sipping champagne and watching a football game in plush hotel robes.
Real football, thank you very much, James would say.
"Certainly," James did say, leaning forward on the sofa, champagne flute temporarily forgotten as the opposing team scored. "Shite."
"I wonder how they reacted," Channing continued, grinning at James' grumpy face as he topped off his champagne and cursed under his breath.
"I don't know," James said, tearing his eyes away from the television to look at his partner-in-crime. "Maybe they laughed?"
"I hope so," Channing said, brow furrowing. "Next time, we gotta stick around to watch their reactions."
"Too dangerous," James said, shaking his head. "We could install a video camera, though. In fact, why haven't we done that yet? In their flats, though."
"They'd probably find them," Channing said, imagining trying to hide something in Jamie's own apartment. He might as well have just given himself up right then.
Although, putting himself at Jamie's mercy in his apartment had formed the basis of many a fantasy.
"Maybe, maybe not," James' voice cut into his happy thoughts. "It's worth a try, though. Ten to one says Fassbender walks around naked in his flat when no one's around."
They looked at each other, mischievous grins growing, and as one, they said, "Let's do it."
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Stick bliss! *giggles madly*
James and Tatum...so mischievous! :) Haha, yes, Fassie totally walks around naked in his flat.
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I would have thought James & Jamie would be the thieves but this works. A lot.
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