>>5359529 As you pass the kitchen table, you notice that the two bags containing Matt's and Bernard's supersuits have been left unattended. Skidding to a stop, your body is stock-still as your mind wages war against itself on whether or not you should steal a peek inside either of them.
The mental battle lasts for all-but two seconds before you're circling the table, centering in on those bags like a shark that had found a particularly-tasty prey.
Childlike glee fills you as your fingers touch the paper of one of the bags, carefully unrolling it so as to not ruin the bag, because what harm is there in simply looking at something you're going to see anyways?
So absorbed in your own excitement and anticipation, you lose track of your own surroundings, and it's why you're wholly surprised when a hand grabs your own.
Clasped around your wrist, the grip is gentle but firm, ultimately preventing you from opening the bag.
You know the owner of the hand isn't Matt, as your younger brother would've been yelling and cursing for you to 'get your hands off of those freaking bags or else!' That, and, between your sense of smell and proprioception, it's easy to tell who's who, and the familiar scent-- one that carries notes of both your own house and the streets, along with something else that's distinctive... yet strangely invigorating-- is a dead giveaway.
The mortification of getting caught has you frozen in your tracks, but, before you can even think to come up with some half-assed excuse, you're teleported all-too-quickly to the other end of the table.
"Ah-ah-ah." Bernard tuts, waggling a finger at you. "Stick and I made a deal not to open them until the extraction. Dunno why, but I'm guessin' he just wants us give FutureLabs the middle finger in style."
"How'd you know?" You pout, wondering just how Bernard knew you'd go for the bags. Laughter shining in his green eyes, the blonde seems to find your dismay humorous for whatever reason.
"Cause I do. Wasn't born yesterday." He tells you. "Kinda knew those bags were in danger the second we walked through the door." Bernard has known you long enough to find that you can't seem to help yourself when it comes to your own curiosity.
"Let's get goin!'" He straightens up, pulling his old bandana over his face-- a bandana that's taken on a muted, yellowish color, rather than it's original green.
The highway is your guide as you follow the road out of the city to wherever Boleski's notebook will take you, headlights whizzing past you under the cover of night. If anyone sees the distinctive, green flash, the two of you are gone too quickly for it to be of any consequence (and it's not like you really exist outside of Konigsburg as far as you know).
>(2/3) 