(no subject)
Again! But no Sebastian this time, I promise. >.>;;
35. Guess
" I give up." Bashou muttered. The frown on Mondo's face told him that wasn't what he was supposed to say. The blue-haired Rocket leaned across the counter and extended both hands.
" Keys, please." his tone was forcibly polite. They were already running half an hour late. He and Buson hadn't the time for childish games.
Mondo, in turn, extended both closed fists.
" Guess which hand. Come on."
Buson stepped up beside his partner and huffed out his chest in a most intimidating manner, peering at the boy through his sunglasses.
" Listen, ya little twerp, we don't have time for-"
" Buson, please. The right one?" Bashou growled, deciding that it would be much faster to humor the lad than to stand their and fuss over him. Just seconds after the cool metal fell from Mondo's hand and landed in his palm, he and Buson were already on their way to the aircraft.
" Goodbye!! Have a nice flight!!" Mondo hung halfway out the window, waving at their backs.
" How did that cheery little bastard make it on to Team Rocket, anyways?" Buson grumbled as they hurried along.
" Who knows? It seems that anyone can get on, nowadays." his parter noted. " But with an attitude like that, he'll probably be wearing that white uniform for the rest of his life."
35. Guess
" I give up." Bashou muttered. The frown on Mondo's face told him that wasn't what he was supposed to say. The blue-haired Rocket leaned across the counter and extended both hands.
" Keys, please." his tone was forcibly polite. They were already running half an hour late. He and Buson hadn't the time for childish games.
Mondo, in turn, extended both closed fists.
" Guess which hand. Come on."
Buson stepped up beside his partner and huffed out his chest in a most intimidating manner, peering at the boy through his sunglasses.
" Listen, ya little twerp, we don't have time for-"
" Buson, please. The right one?" Bashou growled, deciding that it would be much faster to humor the lad than to stand their and fuss over him. Just seconds after the cool metal fell from Mondo's hand and landed in his palm, he and Buson were already on their way to the aircraft.
" Goodbye!! Have a nice flight!!" Mondo hung halfway out the window, waving at their backs.
" How did that cheery little bastard make it on to Team Rocket, anyways?" Buson grumbled as they hurried along.
" Who knows? It seems that anyone can get on, nowadays." his parter noted. " But with an attitude like that, he'll probably be wearing that white uniform for the rest of his life."