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timerotten
"does this harness make me look fat?"
in all seriousness. alright, about ninety-percent seriousness. he may or may not have gotten a few comments on it. (lying. it's totally a joke, but stumbling on pretty ladies in his travels always ensures the perfect opportunity to break out of his shell for a rare change.)
ignisxphoenix
"so--do you break people's limbs on the norm, or--?" casually nurturing an injured limb now. thanks, beanie kid.
pandoras-leading-ladies:
"You haven’t stolen anything from me… I don’t have anything for you to steal." The dark haired girl wrung her hands shyly, searching for the right words. " The way you move, it’s like watching a river flow, or a well oiled machine run. It’s fluid and seamless… beautiful."
beautiful is something he's nowhere near prepared for being called. taffer, thief, sewer rat; there's a slurry of lower than low nicknames that all pale in comparison to the remotely positive title he's earned for himself, but beautiful fall under none of the categories. brow creases as heterochromatic hues narrow, chin lifting.
"it's a necessity. if i haven't taken anything of yours, then just why are you confronting me out of the blue?"--because that's certainly a rare occurrence; on the norm, thieves are left alone to step amongst the beggars in back alleyways where he's from originally.
the house of auditore is well renowned, but where would any nobility be without the crutches that assisted in lifting them to such high positions? in addition, what would nobility and their crutches be without those who want their downfall? what would organizations of war be without those behind the curtains plotting their demise?
this war, he thinks, in the sense that it can be called that, makes so little sense to the taffer--the idea that there are humans against free will is something that a man who relies on no one but himself can't quite wrap his mind around. however, as a man who relies on no one but himself, there are no sides picked, and every job that promises challenge and pretty penny is accepted. where he's a thief, he's an archer, he's got rules set made for breaking. however, when he sits, silent, in the living quarters of a head mentor with bow drawn and muscles taut, the urge to avoid casualties betrays the mission objective at hand--
fingers slip, carefully cut feathers of a crow glide through perfectly poised fingertips as the arrow slips betwixt and the bow releases with a barely audible snap. however, with a slight jerk of the wrist, the arrow narrowly misses the cranium of his target, flying past and sinking into the wall opposite while simultaneously giving away the Master Thief's position in the room.
too late to escape now, it's inevitable that he'll be caught thanks to such a close call.
there is no reverberating echo as leather-padded footfalls creep through past cameras oblivious to he born, child of the shadows. each inch is slow and calculated.
deliberate.
nothing comes close to triggered as the Master Thief makes his way to direct confrontation with the renowned World's Greatest Detective who seems to be so fascinated, at the current fraction in time, with tracking down Garrett's every movement and attempting to predict the next in hopes of catching the thief; beating him at his own game. unlikely. it's a laughable thought; that a professional blackhand be caught blackhanded himself. with a silent precision, a borderline deadly precision (though if asked, never is that precision used to bring about death unless absolutely necessary), a vent grate is slid open and like the shadows in which he creeps, the Master Thief allows himself to drift to the floor with a muffled thud.
the task of maneuvering the toy scattered room would be difficult, had he been in any other situation, but this is a direct confrontation. his stroll is casual, languid, as if he hadn't just broken into a government building and landed himself in front of the very man hunting his trail. he peers over the shoulder of a younger man, a man of an entirely opposite mindset, and a hand lifts to shift a thin veil of fabric from the lower half of his face carefully.
"Master Thief, huh? sounds like a tough one."
