“Eagle One is in position,” came the breezy announcement over the earpieces.
John mouthed Eagle One? to Shaw, but she was already rolling her eyes. Since Samaritan’s downfall and Shaw’s return, Root had wholeheartedly embraced a new level of the lighthearted philosophy get your kicks when you can. It was impossible to predict her sense of humor.
“Currently Doing That, what’s your twenty?”
Shaw’s fist thudded off John’s shoulder before his expression could complete its transition to amusement.
“Root,” Shaw growled, “don’t call me that.”
“Why not?” Root asked evilly. “You kissed me first, remember?”
“Well, she did think she was gonna die, Root,” John added. This earned him another sock to the arm. He rubbed at it half-jokingly. “That’s going to bruise, Shaw,” he advised her.
“Suck it up,” Shaw ordered. “Root—“
“You started it, Sameen. No take-backs!” Root’s transmission cut out in the middle of what sounded suspiciously like chuckling.
A few seconds later, Harold’s mildly irritated voice cut through Shaw’s fuming.
“Mr. Reese, I’ve just received a message from Ms. Groves addressing me as ‘If I Had to Pick a Dude.’ Perhaps giving her the boxed set of that particular television series was ill-advised?”
Before Harold had even finished speaking, John was already backing away from Shaw as she reached out to strangle him.