Ghost sighed, crouching down now to get a closer look at the American. "Sometimes I wonder about you. You're lucky you're good with a wrench, R." He blew out a huff of breath as he looked over the shelf. He wasn't sure if anything on it was actually broken or not, but he was going to guess it was. It was annoying, but it wasn't as if they didn't have more than enough money to buy out the store let alone replace whatever bullshit had been on the shelf. Looked like some dog toys. The corner of his lips twitched. Of course. He stood, debating leaving Roach under there just a little longer. It was rather funny, but he knew they had shit to do. Another sigh and he leaned down, pulling the shelf off the stupid American. He righted the thing, glancing over the stuff scattered across the floor. Not his problem. "Pick somefing out quick, mutt." He jabbed Roach's side 'gently' with his shiny shoe, glancing over as Soap left the shop. Well, that was that.
With a definite jerk of his head, he spun on his heel and started for the door. As he passed the cashier, he flashed a smile and slapped a fifty on the counter. "For whateva' 'dat idiot wants. Keep the change." It was no secret the people attending this party were high-end rich folk, and so it was safe to flash all the money he had on his person without calling too much attention to himself. He brushed a hand over his hair as he pushed open the door and strode across to Soap and Archer. Putting on his best American accent, he spread his arms as he approached them. "Fancy seein' you two here!" He looked at the two knowingly, stepping ever closer to catch what little information Archer would give.
-
Archer glanced sideways at Soap, small smile on his face in a show of mutual friendliness. They just had to act normal for once, he could do that. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugged one shoulder. Normal conversation. He thought over what Price said a moment, still wondering if the old man gave him any reason to why he was sent versus Chemo or Ozone or fuckin' Rook. He glanced over the entrance, the steady stream of people entering having slowed down now as the party finally began to kick up. Jesus, Makarov had a lot of people on his list. The bastard was quite the popularity figurehead in the city, right below the One-Four-One. "Big man said anything that looks valuable is fair game. Try not get innocents killed tonight. We're trying to fuck with his funds, not get the SWAT back on our asses." Their last safehouse had been compromised and their new one was far out. They didn't need to risk it for a couple hundred grand. He glanced toward Ghost, who was covering their already low conversation with a grand and very stupid gesture. The Mancunian was probably his least favorite member, but he could see the desire to keep the guy around. Unfortunately, he was good at distractions and he was their source of weapons. Archer still wasn't sure how that was, but after the customized sniper he'd found in his penthouse with a note attached to it ('fuck you - SR'), he didn't care to ask. That thing was a beaut and his baby. As much as he found Ghost hard to tolerate, there was a mutual understanding after that day. "Yeah, yeah. Are we going inside or standing 'round here like a bunch of idiots? Sounds like the party's really picking up in there and it's fucking chilly out here." He rubbed his upper arms for emphasis, speaking louder now. Now, they'd put on some fake persona and not say shit about the mission until it was over with and they were dumping money on Price's desk.
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