Loneliness was something she quite enjoyed these days, or did she? She sat in her large Victorian chair, admiring the wilderness of the flames crippling in the chimney. Glass of wine in hand, Lydia analysed her apartment. Her father owned a couple of companies around The City and gave her luxuries some would've only seen in dreams; unfortunately money didn't fill the void inside her. Her maid kept hovering over her like a hawk since her father asked her to keep an eye on the young woman. Was he scared she had some dark ideas in head? Maybe it would've been good for her if she caught the gloom... She drank the rest of the blood-coloured liquor, washing away her thoughts. The old woman came by her side, smiling. She always had that sheepish look on her face, as if her face was carved that way.
"Is there something I can do Ma'am?"
"Oh Rose..." The young woman perched her chin on her knuckles. "Take the night off will you?"
Lydia was smiling. The maid always found her magnificent in her simplicity. Her long black hair were tied in a classy but old style up do, she always wore fancy dresses and always looked her best even thought she didn't even try.
"But Ma'am, Mr. Carver told me too..."
"Don't mind my father; anyhow I'll be good on my own Rose."
She added, "I just want some time, alone."
The older woman bowed lightly, got her coat and went out the apartment, leaving Lydia in her silence. She sighed deeply, when was the last time she had the opportunity to get drunk and smoke a couple of leftover cigarettes without being reminded by the maid that it wasn't good for her?
"It's been an eternity." She thought.
The young woman got up and directed her course to the wine cellar. The way she walked was feline-like. One step at the time, one foot in front of the other. Silence reigned around her and the only thing that could've broken it was music. On her way she'd lit the radio, letting classical music flood the room. Candles were lit in the basement already, faint light showing the way. Lydia followed the rhythm while descending the stairs. She then got to her favorite part; choosing her bottle, or best friend for the night, you decide.

That's when she heard a light rustle behind her, in the rear of the room, making her stop doing everything she was doing.
"Maybe the wine's already kicking in darling." She thought.

She heard it again; it was lighter this time.

That time she'd turned her body completely toward the sound source. Maybe it was her cat.
"Felix?" As if the animal would respond. She walked slowly, weapon in hand, to the crates that were muffling the sound. With one swift move she was on the other side.

That's when she saw him.

A silhouette was resting, wounded, back supported by the crates. Her eyes met his, her body still ready to strike. His gaze was keen, but the man lifted his hand at her level, body gesture asking her to lower her bottle; she did, slowly. "You sure aren't Felix."

She felt stupid for stating that while she went towards him. Her eyes went to his hands, holding each other. She then saw blood and looked at him again. "Come." It wasn't a proposition; she was already tugging on him to get up. He brushed her off, trying to get up himself, failing. Lydia took another grip on him, firmly and passed his arm around her neck, giving him support. What was she doing exactly? She didn't really know; she didn't even think about him killing her. Making their way in the stairs was demanding; his condition might be even worse than she thought. Classical music came to her ears again, it soothed her. She took some alcohol, rags and cotton balls on their way and she helped him sit on the bed, a painful groan coming out, slightly, of his throat. Her hand took his in hand while he removed it, hissing. "I'm sorry." His hands were now in hers again; the wound went through it. Lydia undid the glove, removing it slowly. She then started to drown cotton balls in alcohol; he looked at her in the corner of his eyes. She could feel his gaze burn her pale skin. "I'd like an explanation please." She was polite, her voice trembling, realising what she putted herself into. His eyes were locked on her working hands, cringing every time she pushed the little ball of cotton on his sore hand. His mask still covered his face, only revealing his dreadful eyes. She was wrapping his hand in a clean bandage. His breathing was deep; he looked like he had difficulty keeping a steady beat.
"You might have some broken ribs." She stated.
"I'll be alright." His voice was low and broken.
When he tried to get up, his body told him that it was enough. He was exhausted. She cringed at his efforts. Maybe she was right. He sighed in frustration.
"I have some pain killers if you want some..." Her gaze went away when his face turned. It's in her peripheral vision that she saw him nod with precaution. The woman got up and went to get the drugs. The Master Thief looked around, might be some interesting pieces in this luxurious cabin. But then, was he really going to steal someone who's taking care of him right now? It was more about moral than money in this case. She didn't seem like a threat but still... His mind was running while she came back with the little bottle.
"Here."
He snapped. His eyes went to her hand first, she was handing him a small, light blue, capsule. Their eyes met afterward, his were precautious, and hers was tired.
"It works and they really are pain killers if that's what you mean," She was referring to his reluctance. "I can take one to prove you; to be honest my back is aching me right now."
She sat in a classy way on the bed, with a safe distance from him; maybe she should take a break of walking around town in heels. Lydia looked at him, smiling lightly. He took the pill; analysed it and pulled his mask down, revealing his face to her.

His eyes went back to her while she ate the light blue capsule, sipping a small drink from the glass of water on her night shelf afterward. He took it too, she offered water; he denied.
"Well make yourself at home, I guess."
His stomach went weird as he heard those words. After all, when you're the Master Thief, what's yours is mine right? Except this time, someone offered it.
"My name is Lydia, in case it mattered."
"Garrett."
She seemed shocked that he finally responded to her. The woman's eyes reminded him of emeralds he once saw... She was smiling again, sleepy look on her face. The room was filled with the light made by the candles next to them. It made it look vintage and cozy.
"You can take my bed; I'll sleep on the sofa for tonight."
He looked at her, eyebrow raised.
"That's not very appropriate." He stated; he might've not been experienced with women but at least he knew that they shouldn't sleep on the couch.
"I'm not the one with broken ribs here."
Her words made him scoff and he tried to mask it by coughing, she giggled under her hand, turned and went for the door.
"I'll be next door if you need anything."
She slowly began to close the door and reopened it quickly.
"Good night." She smiled and closed it.
He sighed and stretched his sore body on the comfy bed. The window was slightly opened making a cool breeze come in. Garrett looked around, it was indeed pure luxury. He didn't quite understand his situation right now, but he didn't have much time to analyse it after the effects of the pain killer kicked in and he closed his eyes, drifting away in slumber. Maybe she'll kill him in his sleep...