Harrington 3

She's Got Balls

As night falls, I feel myself getting more and more excited to see what exactly these Russians are hiding. In fact, I can barely contain myself as I sit on the counter next to Steve, who is forced to sling ice cream for another half hour before the mall closes.

"Sit still, would you?" He snaps at me as I fidget with my jeans, glancing at the clock every four seconds.

"I can't sit still," I say back coldly, "I'm nervous."

"Oh, what?" He scoffs, "You can fight a bunch of mutant monster dogs but you're scared to spy on a few communists from behind a building?"

"Yes, Steve, I am. And the irony is not the only thing that will be killing you if you don't smarten up." I hop off the surface and lean on the cool glass containing all the different ice cream flavours, "They'll probably be carrying guns, you know."

He just shrugs, as if he's got the ability to dodge bullets, "I can take them."

"Oh really?" I ask, sarcasm dripping from my voice like venom, "Do enlighten me, oh brother of mine, when was the last time you won a fight? And beating me up doesn't count."

"Okay, low blow," he says, pointing his scooper at me in an accusing manner, "that's a touchy subject for me and you know it."

I snort with laughter, "I'm sorry, I just can't take you seriously when you point that at me. Is that the weapon you'll be using to fend off Russians as well?"

He glances at the spoon he holds before hastily shoving it in his apron pocket and taking off his hat, "My point is . . . well I don't really know what my point is. But we'll be fine. So stop with your—" he moves his hands around like a wizard casting a spell in a cheesy movie, "—your fidgeting."

"Sorry if the thought of you being the only thing to protect me from imminent doom makes me a little shifty," I retort, tucking my blonde hair into a ponytail as I fulfill my duty as a little sister and annoy my older brother. It works quite efficiently, and he glares.

"Okay, it's time for you to go. You're bringing my mood down." He turns around and starts wiping the counter as I snicker.

"Did I hurt your feelings?"

"Yes, actually," he snaps, glowering at my smirking face and only earning himself a wider smile, "now get out."

"Aw, Steve, I'm sowwy," I say in a baby voice, a shit eating grin on my face.

"Get out."

"Is it that time of the month again?"

"Get." He shoves me away to the back, "Out."

"Do you want me to kiss it bette—"

"Out!" He slams the door in my face, and I chuckle, turning to see Robin reading over her notes and Dustin pacing while muttering to himself.

"Jeez, and Steve thinks I'm nervous," I say, plopping down at the table and eyeing Dustin with pity, "what's your deal?"

"You wanna know what my deal is?" Dustin asks, and I make a face.

"Not really. It was more of a rhetorical question—"

"My deal is that we're about to go investigate some sort of Russian swap meet—"