//NOW SERVING NUMBER 38. NUMBER 38 PLEASE COME TO THE FRONT//
Hamish slumped in his seat, rolling his driver’s license between his fingers and glaring at nothing in particular. Passport offices, to his mind, were on the same level of hell as the Post Office. He considered leaving but his sister’s words were still ringing about his head like a bloody siren.
“Do you want to be the only graduate to miss out on the class trip to America?”
Which he didn’t, really. Despite the amount of loathing he felt for his classmates, he wasn’t going to miss America for them. And anyway, he stroked the side of his phone in his pocket, blackmailing the ‘future leaders of Britain’ was too good an opportunity to miss.
“NO YOU IDIOT”
The sudden exclamation nearly gave Hamish whiplash as his head jerked up. He had secluded himself in a rather unused corner of the office and had apparently missed the arrival of two rather shifty looking men in black trenchcoats and wide brimmed hats. Peering a little closer, Hamish realized they were also wearing very dark sunglasses, which stuck him as truly bizarre since the lighting in the office was very dim and the light above them had a very annoying tendency to flicker.
“But Hans, it asks for my birth name” The whispered voice of the second man was plaintive and just a tad defensive. Hamish tried to place the accent but couldn’t narrow it down past ‘German-ish.’
“If it asked for your mother’s home address would you write that down as well?”
“Well if it asked nicely…”
Hamish leaned forward to better hear the exchange. Objectively he wondered if the two realized how very suspicious they looked, in spite of their strange behavior. No one in their right mind would be wearing a leather coat in July. The first man, Hans by the sound of it, gave a put upon sigh.
“Must I remind you of the very important nature of our mission?”
“No Sir” The second man sounded like he had heard this explanation before, ad nauseum.
“Must I impress upon you the importance of SECRECY?” Hans seemed to have a habit of rolling his ‘s’s to the point where he sounded rather like a cartoon snake.
“No Hans” This got the second man a very harsh glare from the first.
“I mean, No Sir”
“Good. Now what is our cover story?”
Hamish, by this point, was vacillating between amusement and a small amount of consternation. He was reasonably sure the two men were spies, although what kind of spy would dress like a shady movie villian was beyond his reckoning. And he was reasonably sure that whatever they were doing was probably not very honest. He was drawn from his thoughts by the second man’s voice.
“We are from America” The man’s heavy affected accent sounded more like a bad French impression than anything else. “We have come here to study your nice rocks. My name is Indiana Jones and I am an…” Hamish had to bite his knuckles to suppress his laughter.
“You know this will not work if you insist on sounding like a child.”
Tears were threatening to fall as Hamish tried not to make a sound. His worry vanished as the two continued going over their ‘cover story’.
“And My name is?”
“Hans… are you sure we shouldn’t switch?”
“YES! Now tell me, WHO AM I?”
The second man, now named Indiana, gave a put upon sigh.
“You are my beautiful and sexy assistant Lara Croft. Who my work and life would be meaningless without” He recited, voice monotone. He gave the first man a grumpy glare. “I should be Lara. You’re just jealous that I look better in heels.”
“LIES! My calves were MADE FOR HEELS”
“You won’t even shave your legs” Indiana complained, looking down at his own legs. “My legs look lovely in tights.”
“Do I need to remind you who is in charge of our MISSION!” Hans bellowed the last word loud enough that several of the other patrons looked over.
“No sir” Indiana grumbled, looking very put out.
// NOW SERVING NUMBER 46. NUMBER 46 PLEASE COME TO THE FRONT//
Hamish glanced down at his number and sighed. He had been hoping to watch the rest of the exchange. Getting up he purposefully walked past the two men in black, giving them both a good once over. As he shouldered his backpack he had to admit that Indiana was right. His legs WERE much more suited for heels.