"So, your place or mine?" The dark-haired beauty purred, suggestively wrapping her ankle around that of her latest patron. He returned the gesture with nothing more than an intense glare.
"I supplied the gold; thought that would include a place to do the deed." He quipped dryly, untangling his leg from hers. "And I prefer not to make a scene."
The harlot was more than a little put off by this. She'd exercised her skills and services on countless men, and not once had any of them rejected her playful come ons. She looked him over for what seemed like the hundredth time that evening.
No doubt he was rather peculiar. No one in this city that she knew wore such clothing. A dark grey jerkin and tight matching trousers fitted at the calf by sturdy leather boots. A soft black cotton hood obscured whatever hair he was hiding, if any, and cast long shadows across the rest of his stern face.
He was obviously hiding something, and clientèle like that never ceased to make Gemma nervous. He could be a dangerous criminal; possibly even a wanted murderer. Any sort of hazy past could be lurking just beyond his wayward stare. But regardless, he had paid, and she had a 'job' of sorts to do for him now.
The harlot sighed and downed the last of her red cocktail.
"Alright then. Shall we go back to my loft then?"
"Waiting on you." The hooded stranger remarked.
**************************************************************
SANGUINE METAL DAWN:
Garrett scanned the corner street, waiting for the perfect opportunity to dash across. There wasn't much commotion tonight, thankfully. Most of the watch were on the opposite side of Stonemart for some reason, and whatever it was, the thief was going to use it to his full advantage.
His bi-colored eyes watched a waning torch flicker and die as a chilly spring wind ravaged the walls of the city. That's when he made his move, sprinting across the cobblestone in the direction of the Crippled Burrick Tavern.
Oddly enough, he'd received word from an old associate that morning. Basso. He was someone that the thief hadn't heard from in two years, following the rather messy 'drama' involving Garrett and the boxman's sister.
A part of the rogue was apprehensive as to just what Basso wanted. But there was only one way to find out.
Like a shadow on a darkened wall, Garrett made his way silently through the night. He crept in and out of the alleyways, unnoticed by all until finally, he reached his destination. Stooping in the designated meeting spot, a moldy alley just behind the tavern, Garrett waited in uncomfortable through his coinpurse out of boredom, he made a face at the ten silver that was now absent.
"She wasn't even worth it..." He muttered, pulling the slip knot taut around the mouth of the sack.
That would be the last time for a while. Garrett always waited until the tension was unbearable before he would find a means of 'relieving' himself. Unlike most men, he didn't have sex for pleasure. Pleasure was just a fortunate bi-product. He did so, to alleviate any unnecessary tensions and temptations. To keep his mind focused on what was really important.
His work.
It still made him scoff when he would hear people speak of love and relationships in a cathartic sense. The only thing such emotions brought, in his opinion, was trouble. Women were expensive, needy, and above all, unnecessary. Garrett had never seen nor experienced any proof to the contrary.
He waited in the confines of the alley for what seemed like hours, before his contact finally arrived. Basso was just as the thief remembered him; laid back, anxious, and lighthearted.
"Still prefer the darkness of a dingy alley to the colorful noise of a warm tavern eh Garrett? You haven't changed a bit." The boxman scoffed.
"Neither have you, from THAT introduction." The thief snapped.
Both men stared pensively at one another, their unease and tension apparent. Unexpectedly, it was the reclusive thief who broke the awkward silence.
"How's Sophie?" Basso's eyes burned at the question, but he didn't reply with anger, the way Garrett had expected.
"She's good, she's good. Got a place of her own down in Skinmart, talkin' about opening up her own shop."
"Huh. What's she planning to sell?" Garrett inquired, although he had no idea why. It wasn't as if he actually gave a damn.
"Ah, taff if I know that. Soph's always keepin' me outta the loop." The boxman shrugged.
Garrett returned his words with silence. For a time.
"So why did you send for me?" The thief finally inquired, wishing to get down to business.
Basso looked him up and down, seemingly trying to decide if he could still indeed trust a man he hadn't seen in over two years. The decision was quickly made however, merely on the premise that Basso didn't have any other choice.
No one else could possibly pull this off.
"I-I need you to help me Garrett."
"That's a bit vague, even for you." The thief chided. "With what exactly?"
Basso blushed a bright red, and instantly, Garrett regretted ever asking those words.
"Look mate, don't laugh. But..." He looked away, boyish delight betraying his innermost desires. Garrett rolled his eyes.
"Oh great. You've gone and fallen for some girl, haven't you?"
The boxman straightened his posture, slightly offended.
"Jenivere is NOT just some girl! She's the girl of my dreams..." He swooned. The thief shook his head, barely able to take in what he was hearing.
The man before him had been one of his most reliable fences, back before the 'Craigscleft/Sophie' incident. A professional and discrete source that Garrett had never once questioned in terms of his loyalty and reliability.
And now he was babbling like an idiot over some girl.
"Okay...be that as it may, what's any of this have to do with me?" The thief crooked an eyebrow.
"Erm...well..." Basso blushed again, nervously scratching the back of his head.
"Yes?" Garrett pressed him.
"Eheheh...you might want to take a seat and let me explain..."