exinspired:

exinspired:

I like to imagine fake ah crew ryan doing completely regular things

like not in a ‘he’s not being a criminal right now,’ everyday life way, in a ‘he’s just lost the cops, there are bullets in his back, he’s covered in blood, but he figured he’d stop at mcdonalds to get everyone lunch’ way.

he doesn’t threaten anyone, he waits in line like a normal human being if there is one, he probably hangs back to work out his order or call someone because he doesn’t know what they wanna drink or they had MLP toys again and he had to ask Michael if he wanted one

and he pays and puts some money in the little charity things they always have at the counter and sits around drinking his diet coke and eating an ice cream cone until they call him up and he’s really polite and doesn’t complain about having to pay for extra sauce

Trying to escape the cops, the Vagabond instructs whoever’s in the car with him to put their guns away while he speeds off.  He eventually takes a sharp turn into the nearest Convenient Dark Alley to where he’s led them and tells them to get out.

He wouldn’t do them any harm, right?  Well, he would, but he wouldn’t do anything to rat them out to the cops.  So they grab anything they need from the car and hop out and follow him across the fence and into the parking lot next to the alley

They don’t look too much ahead of them, leave that to Ryan since he’s leading, and follow him into the building through the back door.

Realizing there’re people in here, they try and pretend they aren’t bleeding and limping a little and they follow close behind Ryan and nearly bump into him when he stops,

“Hey, can we get a table for two?”  They hear him ask the person behind the counter at the IHOP they’ve stepped into.

As they’re being led to their table, far away from the windows and doors as would be obvious to seat them unless the poor waitstaff wanted to get hurt, the crewmember Ryan’s pulling along with them hisses “what’re you doing?”

“Laying low.”  He responds, hardly concerned as he pauses in the side of the aisle, apologizing to the small family he’s stopped next to. “Hold on, go follow them to our table; I’m looking at specials.”

Baffled, they sit themselves down and give their drink orders(a diet coke for Ryan of course) and wait for Ryan to come back, mask popped off as he yammers on about the interesting omelette on the specials board, but the other things he was craving and seeing somebody eating something that looked nice on the way over.

(He’s certain to tip the poor guy who has to clean up the blood they’re dripping down the aisle and on their chairs.  He winds up getting whatever fancy, seasonal pancake/french toast they have at the time, sharing with whoever he brought along(and not taking “no, I’m good, I have my own food” as an answer) and laughing a little at the sound of passing police sirens.)

(And, of course, he tips his server well, too. What good is a ton of stolen money if you don’t distribute it any?)