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"The optical processor in this is–"
"An absolute waste of my time."
Kakuzu cuts into his explanation, and Sasori shoves his mask up harshly, glaring daggers at their lookout. His research companion doesn't have the same luxury, though he suspects it's what Tobirama is trying to do anyways, the man next to him turning dark lenses in the direction of Kakuzu's voice.
"I could've been halfway to a target by now." Deeply tanned arms throw their appeal to the heavens in exasperation. "Cashed in by sundown."
"You're worried about wasting time?" Tobirama threatens. He shuffles for purchase on the sand, the flow of dunes hissing away under his weight as he stalks over. "I think you waste too much breath."
Tobi's helmet makes everything sound harsher, but this tone is pure indignation without the modulator's help. Sasori doesn't blame him; they all know Kakuzu owes them both a favor, and has the receipts to prove it.
Bloodshot eyes narrow, a hand coming up to block the glint of sun off Tobi's equipment. The hooded man stands firm, arms folded across his chest and unfazed by Kakuzu's looming.
"That supposed to mean something to me?" The merc sneers, mask fogging with breath.
"It means," Tobirama begins, reaching forward with unexpected precision to uncouple a tube on Kakuzu's pack. "I have no problem repurposing your O2 supply for–"
"Both of you - shut up!"
And they do, because this is Sasori's native territory. There's no arguing with a man whose only reality has always been this golden ocean of nothingness between the Salts.
Tobirama is at his side in an instant. He folds into a crouch, tipping his rifle over his shoulder and into practiced hands. Sasori glances back to take inventory of his comrades; Tobi's peeling off his gloves to feel over the gun, calculating ammunition by weight, and Kakuzu's there a moment later, tank hissing as he reconnects his tube. Keen eyes turn to scan the horizon. Three little dots, growing steadily in size. Sasori blinks. They needed to finish what they came here for.
"Some lookout." Tobirama grouses.
"Helps if your lookout can breathe." Kakuzu nestles his scope on the ridge. "They're out of range."
"Did they see us?" Sasori demands amidst scrabbling at the metal and bone of the wreckage they'd been combing through until he can pick apart what he needs.
"Why don't you ask what he thinks?" The merc kicks at Tobirama with his boot. "Since he's so good at it."
The sound of sand and uncoordinated movements warn Sasori to push between them. Tobi growls under his breath, but Sas isn't particularly inclined to care at the moment, throwing back the other man's hood to access his helmet panel and getting to work.
The fried component gets tossed away and fitting the new component is easy enough. Sasori takes his compensation in slapping the panel closed a little harder than necessary.
"Asshole," Tobi curses. He leans to one side, clutching his head as -hopefully- everything synchronizes.
Sasori ignores the insult, offering the rifle he'd dropped.
"How about now?"
The helmet crackles with the sound of controlled breath and Tobirama nods. A calloused hand takes the weapon back, and Sasori smirks to himself; this isn't something he'll ever let the Senju forget.
Shoving Kakuzu aside, Tobirama flattens himself to the sand. He sets the scope and breathes, stomach stretching along the ridge. The merc knows better than to protest, a brow quirking in similar fashion to Sasori's curiosity.
Pale fingers trace down the muzzle of the rifle to the scope, then lift to the helmet. Tobi's visor snaps up, and for the first time since they'd found him, sunlight glints off well-trained eyes. Crimson, Sasori realizes, the puzzle pieces of his companion falling into place. He's seeing everything new again alongside Tobirama.
"One." Tobi whispers.
He sounds... more true without the modulator. Interesting.
A shot echoes before Sasori has a chance to cover his ears.
"Two."
The rifle jumps again - just barely. Sasori's ears ring too much to hear, but he can still follow the line of Tobi's grin, self-satisfied.
"Three."
And it's over, burning eyes and all, hiding under the dark visor Tobi flips down over a face that's more an enigma now that he's seen it.
"I think," Tobirama starts, and Sasori can feel the curve in his lips as he swings the rifle over his shoulder. "That was easily in range."
"With a ten second advantage."
Kakuzu doesn't hesitate to kick sand at him as they finish their salvage and head back.