Regular 9 to 5 job? Na, Na. We're Black Sheep, us.

He couldn’t help the short chuckle of apology with Nairn’s face. The whole C knew he wasn’t. It put everyone on alert, escape from his wrath quickly sought the minute his tone rose a semitone out of normal.

Aye, aye boss. Colt nodded, slipping in another pick with a satisfying click. He let out a sigh, letting his eyes follow the man’s back out before shaking his head to himself. Mummy and Daddy were fighting. And being caught in the crosshairs sucked ass. Colt went back to wooing the vault, the smooth baritone of his voice going in tandem as picks were shifted, turned, until the delicate tap of his hammer ensured the heavy clunk of internal seals releasing.

Leaning back he’d grin with yet another successful crack. He’d leave the contents for Nairn’s appraisal, getting back up to his feet to check on him while slipping out a rolled cigarette from his jacket, tapping it on the back of his hand before pinching it between his lips. S’open… you got a light?

@Nairn