It’s been a while.
There’s no grand announcement, no rustle in the crowd that tells him about the tell-tale return.
Of a friend, a comrade, a whisper on the wind, really. That’s not why he snuck in, no way, no-how, but he’s sure glad he did. Ide sighs relief when the ice reaches the bottom of his glass, marking the end to his breach of entry, pulling him out of his seat.
It’s just a hunch, but he’ll act on it -- since he’s done everything there is to do here tonight, but dance. He’s scoped selective areas barred off to check which ones can be pried and picked open, and he’s already spotted the deeper pockets of the crowd, too into their prize, too all over their girl.
It’s just no fun alone, to have nobody at the end of the night to divide loot with.
But when the life of the party returns, the whole atmosphere changes, as he pauses, smirking proudly to himself while palming at the top of the banister.
He wasn’t wrong about it this time.
He’s one of the sharpest dressed, you’d never take him as a lowkey felon. Girl dangling on his arm? Not really, when you have to be quick on your feet, but she seems to be enjoying his company greatly. He blends right in, and that’s what defines a great thief.
Ide secures his escape tools on the inside of his dress-jacket, shrugging his way into it.
It’s not entirely on either as he heels the polished floor, but it’ll do. Snatching two of the last drinks clean off a silver tray -- he wilts at the pair he narrowly beat to them with a smile, skimming over to where his friend stands.
“Mr. Ryder!”
