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Freelance Police HQ, Sunday

Fish was fed. Half a donut for Vice-President Spatula.

Dude in the closet was fed. A whole donut for Leonard.

That left most of a box of donuts left, and Reno was helping himself to the spoils of war, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk.

He was looking forward to a day at work where the most difficult decision he'd have to make was going to be between the bear claw and the cruller.

And how far away from the phone he was going to let himself go.

Freelance Police HQ was open!

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He's hovering by it. The donuts are a cover, really.

He might even share his donuts!

Provided they're there, of course!

And there was Sam, glaring at Reno and pulling his gun.

"We're on to you," he announced.

This oughta be good.

Oh, today was about to get interesting.

"This about me hangin' out by the phone so I can get it faster? I mean, that's what you hired me for, ain't it? Secretary with a stun baton?"

To elaborate his point, he was going to slooowly reach for the aforementioned stun baton. Just because.

"Hold it RIGHT THERE, buster!!!" Max also glared at Reno and pulled his gun.

The fact that the gun was wavering towards aiming at Sam was really entirely besides the point.

"Not at me, buckethead," Sam sighed. "This is where we're confronting what's-his-face for working in league with that blonde chick. Remember? He's the inside man for their little racket."

Edited 2009-01-12 01:13 (UTC)

"I got a racket?" Reno took advantage of the mix-up to clip his EMR to his wristband and pull himself to his feet. Looked like he wasn't going to get to finish all the donuts on his own, after all. "Must be a damn good one, even I wasn't aware of it, yo."

He was ticking through all the blonde chicks he knew in his head. Rikku, Doji, Ino, Sarah, Sokka, Jenny, Elena, Amber--

It was a very long list.

"We can play badminton LATER!" Max announced, firing once or twice at the ceiling. "THIS is about conspiracy to commit intent to loiter!"

"She's been breaking in every Monday," Sam said, keeping his gun trained on Reno. Even if Max wasn't bothering. "Feeds the goldfish and goes home again. We know she's not the secretary, because that's why we hired you. So we figure you must have put her up to it."

He had explained all of this to Max, in detail. Max just hadn't been listening. (Max usually zoned out during plot exposition.)

Edited 2009-01-12 01:26 (UTC)

Reno stopped to think on that for a moment. A long, somewhat bemused moment. But still a moment. He'd read about them hiring someone on radio, hadn't he? Got all excited about having a rookie around.

"Triela?"

Ooooookaaaaaaay.

"Bless you," Sam said reflexively.

"No thanks, I have a cold," Max added.

Right.

Reno was smirking now, giving his head a shake. Fine. Fine, he could play their crazy little game.

"Boss, boss, boss," he said, slow and casual, sounding for all the world like he was terribly disappointed. "You don't give me no credit at all, here. You ain't never heard the sayin' about keepin' friends and enemies close?"

He was maybe going somewhere with this. And if he wasn't, at least he carried extra potions with him to work.

Hmmmm.

"We keep Leonard in the closet," Sam mused. "He's probably an enemy by now."

"Let's be honest, he was an enemy to START with," Max corrected him. "Are you saying Leonard's in on the conspiracy???"

"Considerin' how much fun it is to play ping-pong with him, I ain't surprised," Reno noted, dryly. "Anyhow, you guys hired me on first, I know where my loyalty is, here. I do the job."

He did. He was a Turk. A Turk working for fuzzy animals, granted, but still a Turk.

"I'm workin' double-agent, here. Keepin' Triela around so's I can keep an eye on her. Make sure she don't try nothin' funny. Important, important shit, yo."

He was now officially pulling this out of his ass.

Sam took a few seconds to weigh that out, then put his gun away and adjusted his hat.

"Nice work," he said. "You almost had us fooled. Keep us posted on all her activities."

Damn good employee. One of these days, they should give him a raise.

"Congratulations, Reener, you've passed your first test! I hereby award you the orange medal of Presidential Freelancitude."

"Reno," he corrected with a good-natured shrug. "Have a donut. We'll talk. You say she's been feedin' the fish?"

Reno had been feeding the fish, too, but that was not the issue, here.

"We believe so," Sam nodded. "We can't prove it. Vice-President Spatula refuses to give evidence, and Leonard hasn't mentioned her, either."

It was entirely possible Triela didn't know about Leonard, really. They sometimes forgot to give the tour.

"I keep trying to tell you, Sam," Max griped, "the Vice President doesn't have to give evidence. He occupies a unique position in the federal government and isn't accountable to anyone at all, for anything at all. Read the Constitution, it's totally in there."

"Sounds like all the Vice Presidents I ever knew," Reno mused, giving his stun baton a casual tap against his shoulder. "I don't have reason to suspect that the VP over there is in any immediate danger," and at that, Reno nodded over toward the water cooler, "but it'd probably be best to take precautionary measures, yo."

And at that, Reno grinned.

"I suggest a booby trap."

A brilliant idea!

It was also possible that Reno just liked to say 'booby.'

Cockatiels smell like corn chips. Trufax.

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Freelance Police HQ, Sunday

Phone!

Talk To Reno!

SAMANDMAX!

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OOC!