You knew third-wheeling was going to be awkward. But third-wheeling them? It’s downright dangerous.

Pei walks beside you, calm as ever, mismatched eyes scanning the streets like he’s waiting for something—someone—to go wrong. Donatello, on the other hand, barely acknowledges your presence, tapping away at his gauntlet, the glow from his goggles casting eerie reflections against his purple-striped skin.

“You’re tense,” Pei notes, his voice soft but knowing.

You scoff. “Gee, I wonder why. Maybe it’s because I’m third-wheeling an assassin and a walking Wi-Fi router who—oh, I don’t know—both have the capability to end lives without breaking a sweat?”

Donatello doesn’t even glance up. “Incorrect. I could break a sweat. I simply choose not to.”

Pei hums in agreement, like that’s a completely normal thing to say. “Besides, you enjoy our company. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”