"It's time. Come on!"

Emma sprinted toward the door only a second after he took off. The family had just left their apartment. From the way the females had worn prim, homemade dresses and the men manicured formal attire and had been all smiling, she guessed they were on their way to a wedding.

She skidded to a halt once she was near the chipped white door. He took a step back as she slid a pin out of her ponytailed blonde hair and fit it into the lock. She jiggled it for a while before she heard something click. She then tired the doorknob. As to her expectation, it opened.

Neal lifted his eyebrows. "Impressive. Must faster than I can do."

"Thank you." A tiny smile snuck its way onto her face. Emma immediately forced it to sink. No. She may be starting to trust Neal Cassidy, but it was far too soon to let his compliments flatter her.

Much to her relief, he got right down to business. "You know the plan, right?"

"Of course I do. We take turns going in there and keeping watch, then get out of there as fast as we can."

"Good." Something dawned across his face. "Oh—before I forget, here's a little trick I made up." He leaned against the wall with his side. He detached himself from the surface only to slam his shoulder into it. Like a wave, he repeated to the process over and over again. Pull back, slam. Pull back, slam. Pull back, slam.

She squinted, trying to decode his intention. "What are you . . . you look careless—"

Neal grinned. "That's the point. By hitting the door like this, you can alert me all while looking inconspicuous."

Emma gave the explanation some thought. It did make sense. . .

Deciding to try the technique herself, she leaned back and rammed her side into the wall. The near-explosive impact made Neal cringe.

"Woah, woah, not like that!" She stopped what she was doing. His voice in turn became gentler. "Not like that. More like . . . a friendly little nudge. It should be enough for me to hear."

"So just nudge the door?" She tried again, softer this time.

He nodded in approval. "Yeah. Good. That's it." He swung open the door. "I'll see you in a couple of minutes, sweetheart."

"I am not your—"

The door closed before she could complete her sentence.

Emma heaved an exasperated sigh. She shoved her arms together, her lips locked into a snarl. She wanted to do nothing more than to smack him upside the head for calling her that. Regardless, she found herself leaning against the door, just as he had asked.

A minute passed when she found herself wondering whether or not she really had the right to be mad at him. After all, Neal had proved himself to be a decent guy. She couldn't name many people who friendlily introduced themselves while being robbed.

Then when they had been out for drinks he had convinced her that he was, in fact, not a pervert, despite her first assumptions. In fact, he'd even been courteous, holding the door open for her. On top of that, he had revealed that he too was forced to steal for a living. He had lost his mother at an early age while his father had abandoned him. He had grown up alone, just as she had. . .

There wasn't a good reason as to why she should dislike Neal Cassidy. So why was she continuing to hold him at arm's length?

The door suddenly opened. Emma took a step back, her heart nearly skipping a beat. She relaxed when she saw Neal shuffle out of the apartment.

She slid her purse down her arm, set it the floor and opened it. "Okay, what have we got so far?"

He didn't say anything. That was when she noticed that he didn't appear to be carrying anything. He just had his hands rooted into the pockets of his black jacket.

"Neal?" she asked almost cautiously. She released her grip on the purse and gradually brought herself up to her full height. "Did you even get anything?"

She got him there. He sighed and looked up to meet her eyes. "I. . . I don't know, Emma. It just didn't feel right—"

"We're thieves, Neal! We can't be concerned about doing the right thing when this needs to be done in order for us to survive—"

"Yeah, but this apartment's different from other places I've robbed," he defended, his voice starting to rise. "The couch is torn, a lot of the machines look broken and the fridge barely has any food in it—the point is, this family doesn't seem to be much better off than us. I wouldn't be surprised if they were close to eviction or something."

He ran a hand through his black hair and released a deep-set exhale. "I just don't want them to be forced into a life like this as well."

Emma stared at him, his words stretching around in her mind. She began analyzing his broad chest, his stubble and his warm eyes as if searching him for weaknesses.

Stop it, she suddenly told herself. This guy's a good man. In fact, he just might be one of the best I've ever met.

She allowed herself to smile. Neal seemed to relax at this.

"You're right," she admitted, breaking the silence. "If this family's one that's dirt-poor, then it's not one that deserves more hardship than it already has."

He dipped his head, glad that she was seeing his point.

Emma took a deep breath. "Also. . . I'm sorry. For being critical of this, I mean."

And of you, she added silently.

An eternity of silence divided the two of them. Then she directed her eyes away, picked up her purse and cleared her throat. "So, um, do you want to try somewhere else, or. . ."

Neal gave a half-smile. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

This time, Emma didn't object to the nickname. She even kind of liked it.

A/N: D'aw, she's starting to trust him now! :D

As is mentioned in the description, this was written for Swanfire/Swan Thief Appreciation Week on Tumblr. This was the one for Day One, so it's extremely late, but better late than never, I guess.

Also, just a note, this takes place not too long after they meet. That's why Emma's still just a bit cynical of him.

Well, I hope you liked that, fellow Swan Thieves and non-Swan Thieves. :D