"Seems like we’re gonna be stuck on this train for an extra three hours."
eagle-eyes-malone:
"Their fuckin’ loss, man." Sips agrees, sliding the door open a crack with the barrel of his gun and listening down the hall for activity. He looks over his shoulder at Ross, a grin dancing around his eyes, obvious even though his mouth is covered, "but you know what they say, two’s a company, three’s a crowd, and four’s too-many-fuckin’-moochers-gettin’-a-share-of-the-loot." He chuckles under his breath as he turns back towards the door, "don’t ask what five is."
He rocks slightly on his heels as the train comes to a complete stop and leans away from the door as he hears someone shuffling down the hall, not ready to jump the gun just yet. They’re fairly close to the front of the train, right up in first class. The tickets cost an arm and a leg, but its nothing they won’t be making back. Sips likes to think of it as an investment. Usually time’s more of a factor, as far as these things go, and you wanna be sure to hit the people who have anything worth stealing first, instead of wading through cramped cars of immigrants and laborers at the back for pennies.
With three hours they could empty the pockets of everyone on board. Twice over (on the off chance they missed something.) They probably won’t need the extra time though, in and out as fast as possible was still the best route. Having only two people on a heist was great for maximizing loot distribution, but it was bullshit for crowd control. Hopefully nobody felt like gettin’ fresh.
"Alright, you got the bags? Guns? Extra ammo? You know what you’re doin’??" He wasn’t usually uptight about these things, preferring often to play it by ear and instinct, but Ross was right, there were some high-class fuckin people on this train, and this job could leave them sittin’ pretty for life. Or at the very least, a goddamn while. Notch willing they could buy Second Breakfast and ride that show pony all the way to the Rio Grande, "Right… You fuckin’ ready?"
Ross falters as the train comes to its halt, though it doesn't knock him too bad. The heel of his boot lands with a heavy 'thud' as he steadies and re-positions himself, returning to his usual stature. If the nearby passenger(s) had a keen eye ear, they'd have heard Ross' movement over the trains' wheels protesting against the track. There was a small gap between their carriage and the first class ahead; you would ideally expect the first class carriage(s) to be connected, but only if it were a true cruiser-of-sorts. No, this one was of a lower grade than one would expect, and they were stuck in the "first-class peasants" carriage - how else would they be able to pay to board in the first place? If it wasn't for the train stopping, the pair would have to make a risky move or two jumping between carriages - fortunately, this isn't the case. Unfortunately, however, this would allow the other passengers to move freely without stumbling; something that was very, very problematic.
"Got everything we need, right here," Ross points to the gun holsters sat neatly on his person, "and here." Another point, this time to the two remodeled potato sacks slung over one shoulder, both ready to be filled to the brim with loot (while also currently carrying the extra ammo, since Ross didn't really think it through). Sips' attitude was... worrying, to say the least. Double-checking their inventory, muscles actually tense for once. This would be no ordinary heist if it had Sips this riled up. Ross could only hope he could pull the support of the absent comrades.
"As ready as I'll ever be." Ross swallows, rolling up his sleeves. He stills as one of the passengers waltzes nearer. They could screw up on the first victim; they could screw up on the first victim. "Christ, it's like a game of fucking Lissom. Stay quiet, don't panic, all that shit," his voice creeps into that of a whisper. "They're coming."
