Zidane really loved classy galas. They always shared a few things in common: pretty girls, soothing music, even better food; all the things that one might expect of an uptight, high-dollar event.
Of course, he was never actually invited to any such thing.
Probably why it always seemed so satisfying to sweet talk his way inside and have at it for a night, with all other guests none-the-wiser to his usual schemes. It wasn’t all fun and games after all; Zidane had a job to do, and he was the best in the business as far as he was concerned.
It was obvious enough that one with such a gift for gab was never up to any good, though admittedly his words weren’t nearly as smooth as his actions. Maybe he thought himself something of a ladies man, but really he was a far better thief. One of these days he figured he may take home two prizes.
In any case, that night he’d quite ingeniously made his way indoors-- through the staff kitchen, duh-- and very easily found himself mingling. The would-be thief wasn’t exactly blending in, standing easily a full head above everyone around him, but Zidane was charming enough that no one questioned his presence at all. In fact, he’d been offered a few drinks within moments of walking into the crowd, like a true professional, he passed on the offerings.
After all, he’d need to be as sober as possible to make off with the goods that night, and there were plenty to be found. He’d already hit an auction house before, but this was trickier given the loot wasn’t kept in a room away from the others. He’d have to be craftier this time around.
