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“Can I just ask one thing?” Skye says. Squints at the glass six feet in front of her, like that’s going to help her see what’s on the other side. “Just a super quick question.”
She can feel the sighs on the other side of the wall. Winces at the crackle of the intercom. “What?”
“Does my hair look okay?” she asks. She takes a moment to fluff her hair. “Like, is it good?”
“Put your hands back on the sign.”
She frowns. “It’s already around my neck.”
“Place your hands around the sign and look forward.”
She lightly grasps it. “Cheese!”
“No smiling.”
She smirks.
A pause.
She keeps smirking.
They give up before she does. They always do.
“Turn to the side.”
“Can I get that in wallet size?” she asks. “Do you have a photo lab? Does it take credit cards?”
“Miss-”
“Turning,” she says.
She’s got about ten minutes from the mugshot to breakout. Because after they take her prints, and then put her prints in the system, and then realize she’s set up her own prints as trigger for a global-reaching computer virus-
Well. They’re probably going to figure out her name isn’t “Catalina Van Hoten.”
Probably.
Which is a shame. She’d liked the Catalina passport. It was a good picture.
“Unlike THIS PHOTO,” Skye yells, to no one in particular. “Which is taking FOREVER.”
No response. Which means they’re either taking a lot of pictures or-
Intercom static. “Hey,” Grant says, from the other side of the glass. “Want to take some dirty pictures?”
The officer standing beside Skye furrows his brow in confusion.
Skye sighs. “Sorry,” she says, pulling the board off her neck. She’s cracking it across his face pretty quickly, anyway, and grabbing his gun in the next instant.
His partner reaches for his own gun, but Skye’s already got a hostage. “Ah, ah,” she warns. “Don’t be hasty.”
“I can’t believe you needed me to rescue you,” Grant says.
Skye lets out a noise of disgust. Turns her head towards the glass. “You did not fucking rescue me!”
“I was out of my cuffs like, three minutes ago,” he says. Smugly. Probably with a smug look on his smug face and his stupid smug dick in his smug jeans. Does that make sense? It does to Skye. That’s what really matters.
“Because they booked you first!” Skye says. “Headstart.”
“Nuh-uh,” Grant says.
“Yeah-huh!” Skye says.
The other cop reaches for his gun again, thinking Skye’s distracted.
She plants three in his kelvar and calls him down for the count. Or at least, he’s gonna be out of breath long enough for Skye to throw his partner on top of him.
Which she does.
“Thanks for letting me use your bathroom in holding earlier,” Skye says. “I really had to pee.”
She shoots open the door, and she’s out.
And there, of course, is Grant.
“I can’t believe you got us fucking arrested,” Skye says. And that’s a lie. Of course she can believe Grant got them arrested. What else is he going to do but being a fucking asshole and get arrested? It’s probably on his schedule.
He grins at her (smug. She was right) and loops his arm around her shoulder. “Kid,” he says. “Drunk and disorderlies are a part of life.”
“We’re not even drunk!” Skye says, as they practically promenade out of the ruins of a local station. “I mean, really.”
“You flipped a pool table at me,” he says.
“BECAUSE YOU FUCKING CHEATED AT POOL!” Skye yells, shoving him.
“I didn’t cheat!” he says. “I fucking- You just suck at pool!”
“I fucking hate you,” Skye says. And if she’s waving her stolen gun around, it’s only because Grant’s waving his around, too. “Drop dead. Eat shit. Honestly-”
“You’re the only one who let us get arrested so you could use the fucking toilet.”
“I really had to pee!” Skye says.
“You’re fucking impossible,” he says.
“You’re a cheater and you’re shit at pool, not me, and-”
Sirens in the distance.
They look at each other.
“Someone called for backup,” Grant says.
“Yep,” Skye says.
“Hop to the next town over?”
Skye nods. “You know it.”
“Double or nothing at the next pool hall?”
She grins. “You’re going down.”
On me, she adds mentally. And smiles to herself.
She’s so clever.
And good at pool.
AND GOOD. AT POOL.
"Grant," she says. "Wait! I want to grab my mugshot. I think it was a good one."
He scoffs. "Mine was better."
She's never been so insulted in her entire life. "Are you fucking serious?"
He just shrugs. "I am the hotter one."
She's about to strangle the life out of him when he bolts for the exit. Probably expecting her to follow, like the stupid, awful person he is. "GRANT!" she yells. "GRANT YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
He laughs.
"You're not hotter than me!"
He laughs harder.