Chapter 2: 'Cause Haters gonna hate

'A bus?'

'Yes, a bus.'

'He seriously wants a bright red, double decker bus?'

'Yes.'

'Why the fuck does he want a bus?'

'Israeli, is it really that hard for you to stop doubting?'

'I'm not doubting, I'm just asking why the hell he wants a bus. It's not exactly the most inconspicuous get away vehicle.'

'Would you please just retrieve the keys? We're operating on a time limit here.'

Flashing the Arab an annoyed glare, Stretch shook his head at the overly exasperated tone as he slunk out from their concealed position by the gate of the compound. Given the time of day there were very few of the bright red tourist buses in the station, with most being out transporting slack jawed tourists from one end of the city to another. This also meant that there were only a few drivers and even fewer maintenance crews.

While Pooh-Bear remained by the gate, supposedly keeping a low profile, Stretch slipped inside and made his way over to one of the buses. It didn't take long for a driver to appear, still sipping something out of a flask and tossing the bus keys absently in the air. A quick, vicious elbow to the nose when he reached the bus sent him crumpling to the ground, and allowed Stretch to casually snatch the keys out of the air.

'Hope you weren't overly attached to this thing,' he muttered, stepping over the drivers unconscious body into the cab.

Just as he was unlocking the door, he was joined by Pooh-Bear, who shook his head with poorly disguised disapproval when he saw the unconscious bus driver, 'did you have to do that to him?'

'How else was I supposed to get the keys?' Stretch shrugged, slipping into the drivers seat.

Out of all the things which he disliked about the burly Arab, Stretch had to put Pooh-Bears constant second guessing at the top of the list. Despite the way he acted most of the time, Stretch was actually more than capable of knowing when a person did or didn't like him. And the Arab wasn't exactly trying to keep his profound dislike of him a secret.

'I'm sure there were less brutal ways,' Pooh-Bear said simply, taking his seat directly behind the drivers compartment.

'Yes. But they would have taken time. And I do believe it was you who said only a few moments ago that we're operating on a time limit,' Stretch was quick to point that out to him, 'can't you just trust me for once?'

It was a rhetorical, borderline sarcastic question, which had the desired effect of making the Arabs bushy eyebrows draw together in an irritated frown. Stretch smiled to himself as he drove, weaving casually through the traffic on his way back to the Louvre, Pooh-Bear made it far to easy to bait him sometimes. Even though he acted calm and happy most of the time, Stretch had learned very quickly that it didn't take much to get under his skin.

'You know I don't trust you as far as I could throw you,' Pooh-Bear muttered.

'Shame, considering I doubt that you could even lift me.'

'Just drive.'

'I am driving.'

'Well drive faster then.'

'I'd like to see you make it through the streets of Paris any faster. Oh wait, you can't drive a bus. I forgot.'

'How do you know how to drive a bus?'

'I'm skilled. Unlike you.'