"What is this chick doing" wondered 21 aloud, "and why is she cosplaying Dr. Girlfriend?"
"Urgh," said 24, gripping his calf and trying to hold his dart gun steady. "I don't care. Let's just get the money and get out of here."
With a quizzical glance at the woman, 21 straightened his antenna and made his way to the counter.
"Okay, lady. Fork over the lettuce or you'll get a taste of toxin like your friend over there!" 21 nodded his head back at the guard lying on the floor.
"Is he asleep?" the clerk queried, not convinced of the threat.
"No, he's dead!" proclaimed the robber, triumphantly. Then, less triumphantly, "well, he will be in a few hours, if he doesn't get the right treatment. He's not at all well." He turned to his accomplice. "I can't remember, is it three hours, or six?"
"Cash, fatass! Get the cash!"
"Oh, right. Anyway, give us all the cash, or you'll suffer the same fate, whatever it is!"