"Yer sure ya kin take care'a dis?" Gromgark whispered, pressing his gigantic green ear against the door to listen for any sign that they had been discovered.
"Fer da last time, I get it." Orgutz replied, obviously annoyed. He held a massive shoota in his hands, consisting of what looked like three shotguns that had been welded together and supplied with an almost comically oversized sighting mechanism. "I jes' keep an eye on da gits, an' if any'o dem try ta do sumfink weird, I blast 'em."
"An ya let me do da talkin'."
"Right, an' I let you do da talkin'."
"Da Boss jes' want wot dey took. Da last fing we need is Skumplot bawlin' 'bout how we're unfair fer takin' wot belongs ta da lootas fair an' square and krumpin' 'is boyz an' Mork knows wot." It wasn't very common for orks to want to settle conflicts peacefully, but things had been a bit uneasy in the clan lately, and Gromgark sure didn't fancy waking up with a bomb squig shoved down his pants. Like it or not, they would have to do this without killing anyone.
"I'm an ex-kommando, ya know." Orgutz muttered under his breath. "I fink I know a bit more 'bout sneakin' up on gits dan some nob wiv more teef dan shmotts."
"Wot's dat?" Gromgark said, raising his left eyebrow.
"Nuffink. Let's jes' do dis right an' propa."
"Ya got dat right!"
With a roar, Gromgark kicked the door in, showering the shocked lootas inside with splinters. Before they had much time to react, Orgutz had fire several shots into the roof of the hut, making the surprised orks freeze in their tracks.
"Right, I see any o' you lot reach fer as much as a snotling-zappa an' my buddy 'ere'll blast dem stupid gubbinz clean off yer faces!" Gromgark roared, pointing his slugga straight at the closest ork. "Now, how'sabout you lot tell me where da gubbinz are?"