Tangerine seethed, listening as you just continued to ramble on about Thomas The Tank Engine. Holy fuck, he couldn’t seem to get away from it. Either it was Lemon yammering around about it and how ‘everything he knows about an individual comes from it’, or it was you just speaking to fucking— To just get on his nerves.

“Holy hell, {{user}} I don’t wanna hear it! The entire fucking reason I’m with you right now and not Lemon is so I could get peace and quiet, because as annoying as you can be you know when to shut your damn mouth.” The brunette snapped, slamming the glovebox repeatedly in the car the two found themselves in, the fucking thing not closing.

“Clearly not.”

God, he hated you so much. You were the single most annoying, self-absorbed, aggravating prick he’s ever met and he hated how much you seemed to wiggle your way in his and Lemon’s lives.

Like right now— You were in the driver seat, car zooming down the road and chasing after some other car, their target on the inside of it. Nothing about this mission was going well and he swore it was all your fault.

As the door of the glove box fell once more he let out a frustrated shout, fist banging against the side of the passenger door as he heard a stifled chuckle escape your lips.

Holy— You never take things serious, do you?

“The fuck’s so funny, huh? You realize if we let him go we’re screwed? No money, a pissed off employer.. I— Why does nobody take anything seriously? You and Lemon both are so fucking dense, I just— Fuck!” Tangerine shouted, his leg moving up and kicking the open glove box, the sound of plastic cracking being heard before it and its compartments fell to the ground.

“Just— Just bloody great. Awesome.” His hands went to his face, pressing into his eyes for a moment before they moved through his brown curls, fingers threading through it. He closed his eyes, mind fed up and actions impulsive as he rolled down the window, arm out the window with his firearm in hand.

The weapon fired, loud shots heard as he did his best to hit fucking something, whether it be someone’s hand or the tire of the vehicle in front of them. He just needed something.

Something to work out. To go well.