The Swordfish II zoomed out of the Bebop hangar, followed closely by the Redtail. "You know where you're going, Gaucho?" Faye fuzzed through Spike's communicator. He heard the smile on her voice.
"In fact I do, Romani," he answered coolly. He looked through his windshield at the curving horizon of Neptune terrain. Just then he was distracted by Jet's rough voice.
"It's just ahead of you, Spike, to your left." Jet had been keeping tabs through the ship's tracking device.
"I see it, Jet," the cowboy answered in somewhat of a touchy tone.
"Just making sure," Jet replied. Faye's voice came through again.
"Can't admit we're lost now, can we?" she grinned. "What is it with men and asking for directions?"
"Get lost, Faye," Spike sighed, clicking off his comm. Her light chuckle was cut off. "Explain to me again why she's still with us, Jet," he asked the man on the Bebop.
"Do I really have to?" Jet replied knowingly. Spike shook his head to himself and smiled.
"I guess not," he answered.
Spike walked casually down the sidewalk heading toward the First Galactic Bank of Neptune. He and Faye had separated and landed their star ships on opposing sides of the town in an attempt to remain inconspicuous. He looked down at his shoes as he walked, uneventfully puffing on a cigarette. Just then, he heard the satisfying click of heels on pavement. He couldn't help but smile when he looked up and saw Miss Faye Valentine, her sparkling eyes hidden behind dark shades. His glance swooped over her figure, taking in her welcomed change of wardrobe. Faye's deep violet hair was pulled up into a neat bun, allowing only a few wisps freedom to frame her eyes. A black fitted blazer hugged at her curves, her face framed by a bright yellow blouse and conjoined sash tied in a droopy bow about her slender neck. A slim-fitting, black pencil skirt cut just at the knee accentuated her long legs. The black, pointy-toed heels she wore, which made her legs seem to go for miles, defined her calves.
"Wow, Faye, you look… presentable," he said, casually sliding a hand into his pocket. His cigarette rested easily between the fingers on the other hand. Faye's cherry lips curled up to the side. She knew full well what he meant.
"You don't look too shabby yourself, cowboy," she replied, removing her sunglasses. Spike watched as a stem of her glasses rested on her lip. She absorbed Spike's new threads. A business suit in a nondescript brown conformed to his shoulders. Unbuttoned, it was pinned loosely by his pocketed hand. A pale blue dress shirt, accented with a royal blue tie, was revealed. The pants had a pleated front, and were much more of a relaxed fit than she was used to seeing on his slim legs. Black leather dress shoes protruded from the hems. Faye chuckled at his hair, an obscure, olive green mop, as usual. Just then Jet's gruff voice came through on their earpieces.
"You guys done flirting?" he asked, not putting forth too much effort to hide his irritated tone.
"You done eavesdropping, Jet?" Spike quipped, cool as a cucumber. Jet coughed nervously.
"It's hard not to when you guys have microphones strapped to your heads," he grunted. "Just hurry up, will ya?"
"Right, dad," Faye smiled into her earpiece. She replaced her glasses over her green eyes and turned toward the building.
"Shall we?" Spike asked her, looking at the same building. Faye's side-glance at him was hidden behind black lenses.
"Let's," she smiled. Packing heat, the couple crossed the street.
Spike strolled passed the automatic doors into the bank. He snubbed his cigarette into an ashtray near the door; he didn't want to cause too much trouble yet. Waltzing up to an automated teller machine, he produced his money card, appearing random and unnoticed.
Faye had followed him at a distance, and made her way to the receptions desk, removing her shades. She quickly scanned the tellers until she found one of the opposite sex. He was mediocre-looking, most likely in his late thirties with a sandy-colored, nondescript hairstyle. Thin, rimless glasses reflected the harsh light. Piece of cake, she thought, sashaying up to his window. "Excuse me, sir," she said to the man, wearing a worried and exasperated façade.
"Yes, welcome to the First Galactic Bank of Neptune, how can I help you?" he answered monotonously. He sighed an exhausted sigh and glanced up from his computer at the beautiful inquirer. As a more lively countenance sprang into his features, Faye spoke.
"Do you think I might by chance be able to use your restroom?" she asked on hurried breath. The man's eyes shifted as he seemed to become nervous.
"Well," he began, "the restrooms here are for authorized personnel only-"
"Oh, but it's an emergency!" Faye cried, lightly bobbing up and down. "I simply must use the restroom! I could explode! And it's that time again, if you know what I mean. An explosion at this time would hardly be a pretty sight!" Faye's voice rose in pitch, her eyes filled with urgency. She pouted her rouged lips sorrowfully. The man smiled in understanding, having recovered from the shock that usually strikes a man when hit with so much undesired detail.
"Um, just go down this hallway and make a right. It should be at the end on your left," he said, pointing to his right at a featureless opening in the wall, leading to official back ways.
"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much, Mr. Pearson!" the borderline hysterical woman breathed in haste, reading from the name placard on his desk. "Mmwah!" She planted a frantic kiss on the glass divider, leaving a translucent red lip print before she dashed off to where he'd directed her. As she ran, she could hear Spike chuckling into her ear.
"Nice performance," he said into his well-hidden mouthpiece.
"All it takes is a woman's touch," she whispered back, lightly panting after her mad dash. Spike groaned, looking for something else to do that would occupy time and keep him under the radar. He glanced up at a clock mounted on the wall. Three fifteen. He sighed, sitting down on a conveniently placed bench.
Zomigoodness! A bounty chase? Ooh! It gets more fun! By the way, I do not own any of these characters. Not mine. The Bebop crew belongs to Sunrise 1998 animation.