Throwing a smirk over to Bullock, Query placed her arms on the table, proudly twirling the handcuffs around her finger. Really, you’d think they’d learn.
“Well, of course we do, sugar. We just prefer being the ones who are doing the roughing up.” Sliding the silver across the table, Query leaned back in her chair, untwisting a bit of underwire. “You know, we used to have a guy who liked these old iron cuffs. Sixteenth century style. Nearly impossible to find the keys for them now.” You got in a lot of practice picklocking in between clients.
“Showoff.” Echo, rolled her eyes at her partner and put her own cuffs on the table. “You owe me a new bra, Q.” Sure, pulling out the underwire in the back of the car was genius, and it wasn’t like she could reach her own, but good fitting bras were hard to find. Setting down a broken tooth pick, Echo winked at Bullock. “He should really be more careful where he spits those out, you know. You could stab someone’s eye out.” If they were less tempered than them.
“We’ve been away before, Gordon. Be real, we’ll get out again.”