Maddie, for whatever reason, had always been in the habit of censoring herself every time she was tempted to swear. Well, most of the time, anyway. Her subconscious language filter didn’t work very well when she was particularly pissed or upset about something. Daddy Johnson never let them swear when they were younger, and really, all logic dictated that Maddie should be swearing like a sailor now that she and her siblings were basically on their own… but she didn’t.
“Oh, it’s definitely not a downside,” Maddie agreed with a fervent shake of her head. “Being small means you can fit in tighter spaces. Probably makes hiding easier.” This hushed conversation sounded a lot like they were quoting from the Thieving For Dummies book and it made Maddie grin behind her mask. “Exactly, my little protégé.”
She scrunched up her nose in distaste, even though Caitie couldn’t see it, and said, “Yeah, don’t call me Chewy. Ever. Unless I’m eating something. Star Wars sucks.” She laughed once. “All the presidents were boring, what’re you talking about?”
In the public eye, Marchand didn’t seem so French, but behind closed doors, who knew what that guy had going on? For all she knew, he was a closeted stereotype. That was mostly why she’d suggested they bust into Marchand’s room. To sate her curiosity.
Once the door was closed, Maddie gratefully tugged the mask off her face and took a breath of fresh air. Well, not-so-fresh air, actually. “It smells weird in here,” she announced, looking around to try and seek out the source of whatever she was smelling. She nodded her agreement when Caitie said the guy was boring. “Dude, totally. Isn’t he, like, a painter or something? Where’s all his art crap?”