So, backstory. Magnus is a thief, and a really good one at that. He could be like, a master criminal, but he prefers the little things, so he steals from big stores, galleries, museums and the liking. All this is trivial for him and takes nothing at all, it's easy AS. But everybody makes mistakes…
So, Magnus looked down at the list in his hand, a wicked smile on his perfect face. What's next? Museum? Department Store? Oh! YAy! Gallery! Art gallery! Yipee. Magnus found no greater pleasure that stealing from unknowing citizens, especially when it was so easy. It's rather ridiculous actually. He could probably go in there and pluck it right off the wall and they still wouldn't be able to catch him. Today he was stealing a beautiful painting from a moderately large and very popular gallery on a little street in New York. Though he would never admit it, he always had a soft spot for such beautiful paintings, they were really meaningful to him and he was always careful to cause them no harm. If any of his fellow thieves like Cat or Rag heard this, he would never hear the end of it, so he was sure to always act indifferent.
He stepped out of the possibly stolen car he had been seated in, a block away from the gallery. He made sure to look casual, though with his clothes, he always stood out. You may think wearing multi-coloured, glitter covered clothes on a robbery was a terrible idea, but nobody will suspect the thief to be the one person that makes himself stand out… that would be dumb right? Today as he sauntered down the street toward his destination he wore yellow skinny jeans and a teal blouse paired with black boots and a black and canary yellow scarf that tied everything tougher. Magnus prided himself in his immaculate, amazing fashion sense and he made sure everybody around him knew it too.
Slowly he entered the old red brick building, silently admiring the paintings in the entrance. He cast a sweet glance at the receptionist whilst he strode up to her.
"Hello there, may I ask your name?" he asked in his usual voice that nearly always got him what he wanted. The small ginger woman turned to him, one of her brows arched. She smirked and it lit up her whole freckled face.
"Hello, my names Clary, and just so you know, that doesn't work on me. My boyfriend is a kiss up and I'm completely immune to you boys puppy dog faces." Puppy dog face? I'm offended. I like her, she had fire.
"What are you talking about?" he answered with a smirk, a fake innocent look on his face. "I am doing no such thing." The women just smiled at him with a simple 'right, sure, totally believe you' face that he was completely used to at this point in his life.
"So, I was wondering if I could get a ticket. And a leaflet?" he asked, gesturing to the colourful pamphlet next to her. She smiled, and handed him one before turning back to her computer.
"Name?" she asked, glancing at him.
"Charles Buford" was his reply, one of his many pseudonyms. A strange look passed the ginger's face, but it soon passed and she handed Magnus one ticket with a cheery smile.
"Enjoy the gallery." She said, a sweet smile on her adorably freckled face.
"I'm sure I will." He said in reply, throwing her one more genuine smile before he turned around and entered the first room.
He turned around, maybe slightly lost, which was surprising because he had looked at the building plans before he had gotten there, just to be safe. He strode over to an incredibly golden worker whose label read 'Jace' and asked him.
"Where will I find the Fairchild works?" A look of almost pride flicked through his golden eyes, but I disappeared just as fast as it had come, making Magnus think he had imagined it. The guard pointed to the room across from where they were both stood. "Oh, I was so close, was I not?" Magnus asked with an innocent giggle and a fake smile. The worker just snorted and rolled his eyes before walking away toward another confused looking customer. Magnus entered said room and felt his breath taken from him. Stolen. He thought. How ironic. The works were all beautiful, each unique and stunning and all signed with a flourish at the bottom with Clarissa Fairchild. Thankfully and much to his surprise, he was the only one in the room. No respect for art. He walked over to his favorite painting, and admired it. All her paintings were beautiful, and they were all slightly supernatural. This one, his favorite, showed a dark figure shrouded in shadow. Maybe it was the intricate detail of the clothing in the painting. But he felt drawn to the piece, the title of it being 'Warlock'. The man was standing, only his torso and hand in light. He was wearing a beautifully detailed and delicate jacket and Magnus took time to congratulate the artists fashion sense. I wish I could meet her he thought. The man- warlocks hand was surrounded in violet flame that seemed to be alive. It crackled and spun and look so real.
Looking around again, he made sure there was still nobody in there. He had come rather late at night time, just a few minute before closing, so nearly everyone had vacated the building. He reached up to where he knew there was a button that caught most amateur thieves. After hitting it he pulled back and was about to reach forward and pluck the painting right off the wall when he heard someone behind him. Spinning around he saw a beautiful man studying the piece titled 'Angel' across from him. Damnit, he thought. Here goes my chance. The man was amazing, just his type, with silky black hair and beautiful blue eyes. The man was facing him and slowly walked towards Magnus, causing his breath to catch in his throat.
"I've always loved that one." The man said in a soft, kind voice, gesturing to the 'warlock' painting. The man had an unidentifiable spark in his eyes that left Magnus with questions.
"Yes, it's my favorite." Answered Magnus with a second of hesitation. The blue eyed wonder mover closer so they were connected at shoulder and hip staring at the painting. Magnus then gasped when he felt the boy's hot breath on his ear.
"If one were to, hypothetically of course, want to acquire it." Magnus gasped quietly, astounded, the man smirked and carried on. "Said person would probably, still hypothetically, want to notice the motion sensors below it. Magnus slowly shut his eyes, thinking, only to open them again when he felt the man leave his side. He gasped, a loud, surprised sound and then started laughing. He was still facing the painting, or more like, where the painting was. There was now a blank space on the wall that left Magnus staring and manically laughing. He was a freaking angel thief! Who had that been? And how on earth could Magnus get his number?
So, this was originally going to be a one-shot that I was not going to publish it, and was going to write it just for my satisfaction b/c I'm evil, but I'm thinking maybe I should extend it? Should I? Is it terrible? Please review. Thanx =3