He works quickly, knowing that at any moment Gold can come back. He throws things into the bag at random; a candlestick holder is quickly joined by its twin. None of it is important. He only takes what brushes his hand while he looks for it.
Never in a million years would he have considered this the way to break Gold. He still doesn't quite believe it. He considers the fact that she could be wrong; that Gold won't care in the slightest when it goes missing. He was rather drunk when she came to him and whispered in his ear, got him worked up. Told him strong men take what they want, and then told him exactly what to take. He could have misheard, but it's too late now. He will simply have to take his chances.
His blood boils when he thinks of Gold, the haughty, self-righteous bastard. Who does he think he is? What gives him the right? He told him he'd get his money, but Gold couldn't even give him the extra time. "The terms of the loan were fairly specific." What he wouldn't give to see the look on his face when Gold found his precious memento was missing.
He slows when he considers the possible consequences of his actions. If the Sheriff were to become involved, it would be obvious who the burglar was. An idiot could figure it out, and Sheriff Swan was no idiot. Gold didn't seem like the type who would go hobbling off to the Sheriff, but the gimpy asshole had an odd relationship with Sheriff Swan. If anyone had accused him of setting fire to the Mayor's office in front of the entire town, he'd have stayed as far away from her as he possibly could, but not Gold. He didn't seem to care. In fact, he acted as if the whole thing was all vaguely amusing. If he'd accused anyone, he surly wouldn't continue to talk to them whenever they met up like the Sheriff did. How the pair of them could act like nothing happened baffles him. He is suddenly grateful of the promise that the Sheriff won't be able to touch him. He is not sure he can handle a woman such as her.
He is giving up hope when he spots it. It is exactly as she described; a small, white china teacup with a design in blue and a chip on the rim. He approaches it slowly, hesitant to touch it, as though the item is more powerful than it actually is. But that's silly; it's just a cup. He handles it carefully, he knows it will be more than his life is worth if anything happens to it before he can get it back to her. "Take whatever items you can find, but remember, the cup is mine."
Later, he will worry about dealing with Gold. Later, he will wonder why a chipped teacup is so important. He will try to salvage his business- later. Right now, he is only concerned about getting the cup to its destination and going home. Perhaps he will have a drink to celebrate his success at besting the bastard. Perhaps he will have several.
He is not worried about the future. He has his promise, so the Sheriff is not a threat, and if she were to question him? No matter, he can easily find people to stand with him against Gold, disliked as the bastard is. He has beaten the system; he has beaten Gold. He has nothing to worry about.
