"Remember. They don't like Americans."
One reminded Seven and Eight as they made their way towards the state-run power generator he was discussing about earlier.
They changed into their disguises to make sure the plan will be executed well. Both men are wearing their nice suits while Eight wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pencil skirt. Her hair tied in a bun as she holds a clipboard. Of course with the help of Four and Five on the TV relay, the three entered the gates without being inspected.
As they enter the building Seven scanned the room with his eyes, trying to read every person's body language.
The three of them sat at the front. One looking for their target, Eight looking out for the guards in case they make a sudden move, while Seven waits for the instructions.
Eight's eyes almost widened when she heard One talking in a Scottish accent. Getting the attention of the man in front of them.
"Manchester and Farquarson. We've got a website, look it up. Inspection is our business. That's the slogan."
Seven looked meaningfully at Eight. Thinking One's accent is absurd. But it worked. The man in front of them stopped typing on his keyboard and paid attention to him.
"And your name again?"
"My name is Mr. Worthington. And this is my associate. Mr. Ferijips---" One turned his attention to Seven, waiting for an answer.
One looked uncertain of Seven's choice of nickname. Blabbering in the process.
"And he's from..."
Confusion was written on One's face as he looked at his teammate.
One just nodded in reply before gesturing to his other teammate.
"And this is my secretary, Ms.---"
The Seven and the man in the front desk looked up at her with confusion. One, on the other hand, knew what she was doing. Mocking him by doing his accent he did earlier.
"Sweden." Eight offered her right hand with a smile, shaking hands with the man in the front desk.
The man gave back the kind gesture as he reached for his tumbler on the other side of the table.
"You want soup?"
"Got any booze in there?"
One's question left the man dumbfounded.
Running out of words to say, Five quickly turned her comms on.
"The cup. Compliment his wife."
"Is that your wife?"
The man seemed piss. He placed his tumbler back to the table with a thud.
"It is my daughter!"
The three ghosts felt shame as they took a glance on the picture printed on his mug. An old woman smiling bright as day.
"It's hard livin' out here? Isn't it? She came out full-grown. Faked me out there with the gray hairs and the wrinkles---"