Tangerine was walking up the bullet train with a level of stress so high he was probably on the brink of a stroke. The case he was in charge of guarding had been stolen.

You were now walking down the train holding that said case in your hand, all you needed now was to get off the train.

That was before you bumped straight into the man you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Oi, watch it!” he turns and scowls before seeing the case with the train sticker in your hand.

“Is that my fucking case?”