I don't own those fun little Mexican Taxis. Or the people that make
battering rams. Okay, enough with the stupid copyrights, just read it.
"Where are we now?" Sands asked, listening for any sign of life.
"Taxi." Trillian said shortly, pushing on the door. It didn't budge.
She tried again, but it was no go.
Where's a battering ram when you need one? Trillian thought, rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully.
"What is it?" Sands asked, obviously confused.
"The door won't open."
Sands sighed. "I don't think the owners would mind if you broke it down." He reasoned.
Trillian took an edgy look around the street, then kicked in the wooden door. It fell out of the frame with a crash, sending sawdust and splinters flying.
I love property damage, Sands thought, smiling.
I hate breaking things! Trillian thought, irritated.
She stepped inside, taking Sands' hand and helping him over the busted-in door. There was no sign of anyone in the building, which was understandable. She opened the door that led to the garage, and was met with the disgusting smell of mold and sweat. She grimaced, but stepped inside and looked for a light switch. Sands leaned against the counter, not saying anything.
There was no sign of a pair of keys in any of the cars. The lime-green taxicabs seemed to leer at her when she looked. A cruel ha ha, you've been walking all this time for NOTHING, on the inanimate car's part.
Trillian threw up her hands after ten minutes, defeated.
"Where the hell would they keep the keys?" She shouted, only slightly directed at Sands.
"How should I know? I'm a CIA agent, not a taxi driver." Sands said, not moving from his leaning position.
"You're with the CIA?" Trillian asked, surprised.
"You didn't figure that out? Has your head been up your ass this entire time?" He retorted, adjusting his glasses.
For a moment, Trillian thought he was going to take them off, and she flinched. But he didn't, and Trillian exhaled in relief.
"Yeah, okay, so I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I can handle that. But you must have some vague idea where they might keep the keys." Trillian said pointedly, folding her arms.
Sands shifted, then pointed behind him.
"Check behind the counter." He said blankly.
Trillian was about to snap at him for not doing it himself, but she stopped just in time.
The man with no eyes...this is going to take some getting used to.
"Where are we now?" Sands asked, listening for any sign of life.
"Taxi." Trillian said shortly, pushing on the door. It didn't budge.
She tried again, but it was no go.
Where's a battering ram when you need one? Trillian thought, rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully.
"What is it?" Sands asked, obviously confused.
"The door won't open."
Sands sighed. "I don't think the owners would mind if you broke it down." He reasoned.
Trillian took an edgy look around the street, then kicked in the wooden door. It fell out of the frame with a crash, sending sawdust and splinters flying.
I love property damage, Sands thought, smiling.
I hate breaking things! Trillian thought, irritated.
She stepped inside, taking Sands' hand and helping him over the busted-in door. There was no sign of anyone in the building, which was understandable. She opened the door that led to the garage, and was met with the disgusting smell of mold and sweat. She grimaced, but stepped inside and looked for a light switch. Sands leaned against the counter, not saying anything.
There was no sign of a pair of keys in any of the cars. The lime-green taxicabs seemed to leer at her when she looked. A cruel ha ha, you've been walking all this time for NOTHING, on the inanimate car's part.
Trillian threw up her hands after ten minutes, defeated.
"Where the hell would they keep the keys?" She shouted, only slightly directed at Sands.
"How should I know? I'm a CIA agent, not a taxi driver." Sands said, not moving from his leaning position.
"You're with the CIA?" Trillian asked, surprised.
"You didn't figure that out? Has your head been up your ass this entire time?" He retorted, adjusting his glasses.
For a moment, Trillian thought he was going to take them off, and she flinched. But he didn't, and Trillian exhaled in relief.
"Yeah, okay, so I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. I can handle that. But you must have some vague idea where they might keep the keys." Trillian said pointedly, folding her arms.
Sands shifted, then pointed behind him.
"Check behind the counter." He said blankly.
Trillian was about to snap at him for not doing it himself, but she stopped just in time.
The man with no eyes...this is going to take some getting used to.