Work Text:
Shiromo was so frightened. The bandit mask they'd tied on him was wet with tears. He zoomed as the robbers at his steering wheel directed. The fear coursing through him made it easy to make himself lighter. The pellets of paper money dropped out of him, an obvious trail.
But when he was found, reinforcements crashing into the hideout, the officers didn't shame him.
*
Happy to be back on his usual route, familiar errands, Shiromo wiggled on his wheels, making the medal fastened to his side glint. A medal for heroism, because he'd not held himself tight during the getaway.