The whole plan was an awful idea, probably the most awful idea that Averill had acted on in an absurdly long time--But fuck if she couldn’t back down now after running her mouth about how she’d been able to nick most anyone back in Kirkwall.
Then she’d ended up with one of the few other kids in Skyhold daring her to pick something from one of the real big wigs and it wasn’t as if she could just say no. Averill had a reputation to uphold, common sense or no. The only way she would have refused would have been if they’d sent her after the templar--He was a Kirkwall templar, she stayed well and wide out of his way.
She’d hoped for the Antivan lady, she would have been easy given the loose fitting attire but no she’d been sent after the Nightingale. Mostly, she thought it as because the kids hadn’t known any better--Didn’t realize they were making Averill risk her nice cozy job as an official agent of the Inquisition but they wouldn’t stop needling her about it.
Which brought the child to her current predicament of listening carefully for any footsteps as she carefully snipped a button off one of the Nightengale’s spare hoods. She’d double and triple checked that the Nightingale was in what sounded like the long haul of a debate in that war room of theirs.
Then she’d done her best job of pestering the agents guarding the doors that she was just another brat who wanted so badly to see the pretty birdies in the rookery. They’d let her in after several minutes of exasperatingly excited fast talk that Averill could barely even remember half of--And all of it for one fancy little button undeniably belonging to the spy mistress.
Well, Averill couldn’t say she hadn’t stolen for less before
