“Give me the transcoder.”
“Give me the whip!”
Mason blinked. “What?”
“I said, ‘Give me the whip!'”
The fact that Catseye’s grin was clear and obvious under his full head mask was enough to make Mason grit his teeth. He raised his arm, intentions for a back-handed slap also clear.
“I’ll give you the whip.”
Catseye shrugged. “Okay. Not a movie buff. More like a movie gruff.”
With a quick motion, the small device appeared, glittering, in Catseye’s gloved hand. “Say please!”
Mason was fast. His raised right arm struck out to grab at Catseyes shoulder, and at the same time, his left hand was a blur as it snatched at the transponder.
Somehow, Catseye was faster. Mason wasn’t sure he’d seen him move, there was no shoulder in reach to grab hold of, and his left hand closed on empty space. There was about a foot more distance between them, now.
So it was Mason’s turn to shrug. “Fine. Please?”