Hanging up the phone, he sighed and ran a hand through his messy blond hair in exasperation. As he reached for a chocolate bar absently, the gears of his clever mind sprang to life and began to sort out a mental checklist for his master plan: to finally triumph, to be the one at the end holding the prize before that albino Toys-R-Us kleptomaniac got there first--
Anyhow, back to the list.
Truck? Got it, complete with delivery disguise. Delivery man was left in some back alley.
Motorcycle, for quick get-away? Got it.
Guns? Always!
Car for decoy? Matt was taking care of it. And speaking of which, he might want to go check up on that.
Getting up suddenly, the blond's tight leather pants made a ssp-ssp noise as he strode out of the room, down the hall and into a room filled with TV surveillance screens, cigarette butts (in ashtrays) and video game sounds, courtesy of the oblivious redhead sitting cross-legged with his back to the door. Every now and then he would mutter a curse under his breath at the Game Boy in his hands, fingers furiously manipulating the buttons as if his very life--or at least his Pokemon's life--depended on it.
After standing at the door for a few minutes (and coming to the conclusion that Matt would remain absorbed in his damn game unless he did something), the blond cleared his throat loud enough for his counterpart to hear, arms crossed as one boot tapped an impatient beat out upon the linoleum floor. The redhead started as if out of a reverie, the glaze over his eyes returning to a healthy sparkle as he turned to see who it was, face brightening almost immediately upon recognization. Taking off his goggles (God knows why he wears them inside) he grinned.
"'Hello, Mello-Jello my yellow fellow."
Yes. He did say that.
The newly-named Mello rolled his eyes, ignoring the greeting and instead choosing to shift his weight, arms still crossed across his chest. "Matt. Do you have the car." And no, my punctuation isn't wrong--Mello just asks questions more like statements, is all. Anyways, back to the story.
"Matt. Do you have the car," he asked, eyes darting over the screens that the redhead was currently ignoring. Turning back around to face said screens, Matt looked at them carefully, the only shard of his genius appearing briefly as he scanned over them with rapidity, finally pointing out a lower left screen that contained footage of a car in a dimly lit garage. "There," he stated finally, turning back to Mello with a smile. "Don't worry, I took care of it this morning. I got you covered--"
Just then, he stopped. The smile faded slowly off of his face as he got up with suprising speed, crossing the room until he and Mello were merely inches apart. In fact, they were so close that Mello could smell the cigarettes on his partner's striped shirt, and wrinkled his nose in response. Finding Matt's now-inquisitive stare focused upon his coif to be most out-of-character, he angrily took a half step back and cocked an eyebrow at Matt's weird behaviour. "Matt, what the hell are you doing?!"
A gloved hand reached out, running through the shaggy ends of Mello's hair briefly. Matt's tone was serious as he murmured, "...your hair is the color of an Ampharos...too pale for Pikachu, more Ampharos...maybe Zapdos? Nah...Ampharos..."
When it finally dawned upon Mello as to what his smoking friend was referencing, he turned and stormed out, fists clenched in irritation as a bad mood began to descend upon his leather-clad being. "Dammit, Matt! You and your damn one-track mind!"
From the back room, a voice replied. "That was supposed to be a compliment, Mello!"