"Hey, look, the cute fascist brought some carry-on,"
Iris Fouquet giggled. The mountaineer's long, tanned legs were crossed at the ankle and kicked playfully, cutting a pendulum's arc in front of her far enough to measure furniture. "Who wants to frisk him? Nobody? Dibs."
Viv's eyes trailed back to the approaching team, and the Mistralian captain sucked in her breath. Evangeline looked up and squealed."What the fuck?"
Pressman asked incredulously."We're friends,"
Evan sang. "Viv, I'm gonna have another friend. What's the biggest gun you think he's got in there?""I'll find out."
Jericho Piper had approached with a duffel bag in each hand, flanked by his teammates. Thankfully, they seemed prone to wakefulness. Viv's eyes lingered for a second on the shorter boy to Jericho's right. He wasn't worthy of much appraisal, dressed in a perfectly mundane hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. They were perfect post-revolutionary clothes, which might have been what drew Pressman to him - either that or her cartoon perversions, anyway.
Maybe she shouldn't judge. She hated judging people. After all, Viv could tell the Atlesian was doing the exact same shit to her. His face was expressionless, as much of a copper death mask as it had been when he'd previously taunted her and her girls. Now his stoicism seemed almost smug. The vibe was only compounded when he leaned down to the shortest person on the team - a Faunus girl with majestic snowy wings - and muttered to her, turning his head so that his mouth was hidden by her ear. The girl's wide grin told her everything."Piper."
Viv was determined to stay in control, standing up to draw his gaze. She was shorter than him only by an inch or two, and she felt more confident as she realized how close they were to standing on equal ground. "We're losing nighttime. Do you have enough munitions now? Were you planning on survivors?""You said heavy.""This moron said heavy."
Viv's boot flicked backwards slightly to kick the calf of the girl she'd set down on the crates they were using for makeshift seats. She continued speaking over the resultant whine. "As I recall, we needed to have a discussion as team capta--""Okay Viv,"
said Jericho Piper blankly. He had already lifted one duffel bag and tossed it beside Evangeline. "Your moron has a knight's instincts. I'll trade you for mine when we're deploying."
Behind the fascist, the Faunus and the shōnen shared a confused glance. It told Viv all she needed to know about the state of morons on their support team. She would need to reassure Evan of her own competence after a few hours of these fucking lackeys. Not that Pressman cared. She was frowning at the manlet like a new cuisine she was unsure of sampling. Given that the only males she'd ever touched were in dating simulators or frozen still in men's departments, that was probably an apt analogy.
Come to think of it, she was thankful for Evan's gayness. She was growing furious with half of her team leering at the pretty boy Atlesian.
But she couldn't at all
abide the way her Evan was leering at that fascist's...equipment."I'll make that trade,"
Viv said. "Whatever happens to her on your watch, I'll revisit on yours tenfold."
Jericho's gaze drifted back to the gorgeous young Faunus on his left. With her wide cyan eyes, porcelain smile, and her wings, she may as well have been an angel."I'll make that trade,"
the knight echoed.
After the two grouchy bitches had formed their compact outside the airship, Veronique Pressman had assumed that the two teams would be forced to mingle, sitting together with their "operational partners"
for the duration of the airship ride down to the port. Thankfully, she had figured incorrectly. The Atlesian prick had chosen to sit next to his partner with the wings, reluctantly sharing one of his earbuds a few minutes after takeoff when she asked what he was listening to.
That left Viv free to talk to Evan, who had kept the duffel bag her "operational partner"
had proffered and was using it to prop up her head while Viv propped up her shorts-clad lower half. Veronique watched them with outright revulsion. She hadn't seen a gay combination that volatile since styrofoam and gasoline. Adding a bunch of Atlesian firearms in the mix to get jealous over was bound to lead to some particularly punitive hate sex in the dorm bathroom that night.
Iris, ever the flexible friendmaker, had sidled up to the silent fourth member of JBLS and started chatting her up. That left one person left for her to sit next to on their side of the rectangular cargo bay. So, steeling her courage and preparing to teach the charm school crash course from hell if she was recognized, she sat down next to the hoodie-clad Shiroyaman."Bonsoir,"
Pressman muttered darkly. Normally the dull roar of an airship's movement, and the rattling of its cargo inside a bay, would have masked her words, requiring her to speak up. Thankfully, Beacon's fleet ran a little smoother than that, so she could stick to her normal, quieter tone of voice.