A/N: In case you didn't go above and beyond and do some Italian translating, "Vita Vivace" translates into "lively life." I thought it was a cute alias. Review, por favor.
Disclaimer: Thief Lord canon belongs to Cornelia Funke.
Mama, We All Go to Hell |4| A Lesson
It did not take Ernesto long to learn that Vita Vivace was not punctual. She ran an hour and a half late for their meeting, and when she arrived, she had alcohol on her breath. But did not seem the slightest bit drunk; her eyes were bright, her smile was warm, and she was in a good mood.
Of course, Ernesto reasoned with himself, that's probably just the alcohol.
Vivie sat heavily on the bed, carrying a backpack that seemed loaded to the brim with the girl's belongings. If Ernesto didn't know any better, Vivie probably lived out of that bag. She hugged it to her chest as she watched Ernesto with a smile in place.
"Ciao," she said serenely. She slowly set her bag on the floor, between her feet, and she extracted a half-empty glass bottle.
Ernesto looked on in distaste as he closed the hotel room door. "Is this what you do with your money? You buy alcohol and drink yourself into oblivion?"
"I don't drink to get drunk," Vivie replied calmly. She took a sip of the clear liquid, but Ernesto knew well enough that that wasn't water. "So I have a few vices. Così che cosa? So what?"
Ernesto was alarmed. "Drugs?" His accomplice couldn't be a drug addict—or an alcoholic.
Vivie laughed loudly. "I didn't realize thieves had such high standards for their…oh, what's the word I'm looking for?" She tapped her chin thoughtfully. She slowly grinned. "Accomplice. I didn't realize there was a test to become a criminal. But, to answer your question, there are no drugs, and there never will be." Vivie stood, stretched her long, thin arms, and wandered about the room.
She lifted one of Ernesto's masks from the table, and she went to the gilded mirror to hold it up to her face.
"Believe me, Ernesto, I am the most capable girl you are going to find. I'm fast. I'm agile. I'm experienced. I'm young and more or less healthy. I'm easy on the eyes." She flashed him a toothy grin that was oddly attractive, and he quickly looked away before his cheeks could fill with heat.
Vivie must have seen; she laughed and set the mask back down on the table before she began to inspect Ernesto's collection of knives. She touched the razor-sharp tip of one before she continued to speak.
"What kind of thievery do you have in mind, Ernesto?" she asked. She looked at him curiously.
"Anything that will earn us a living."
"Steal and sell," Vivie answered. "Simple enough, although most people don't tend to keep their valuables in their pockets and handbags. And I don't mean wallets filled with a few Euros—I mean the real valuables. Jewelry, heirlooms, expensive electronics…"
Ernesto folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "I was thinking more along the lines of burglary."
Vivie looked surprised. She set the knife back down, not replacing it in its rightful slot in the pouch which instantly bothered Ernesto, and she stared at him. "The big leagues," she said warily. "I'm not—"
"You're not up to the challenge?" Ernesto taunted.
Vivie's eyes hardened. "I was going to say, I'm not quite sure you're ready for that."
Ernesto's jaw clenched, and he narrowed his eyes at Vivie, an expression she mirrored with that sly smirk.
"And what makes you think that?" he asked.
Vivie lifted her right hand, where a familiar wallet was between her first and second fingers. Ernesto gasped and felt his back pocket, but his wallet was gone, in the hands of his so-called accomplice.
"Lesson one: expect the unexpected." Vivie casually flipped through the wallet's compartments, looking amused. "Ernesto Barbarossa," she read off his ID. She laughed. "It sounds like a pirate name."
"Give that back."
Vivie ignored him as she thumbed through the collection of money in the wallet, mentally counting. "Oh, relax, I won't be taking anything." Eventually, she tossed the wallet back to Ernesto, looking smug. "Now, I'm not saying that you won't be able to trust me. You can. But burglary isn't some fun little game where if you get caught, nothing bad happens. Wrong—if you get caught, you will end up in prison or the orphanage, neither of which is an appealing option. Either way, you lose your freedom, which is as good as being dead." Vivie approached Ernesto, closing the distance between them. "If we're going to be partners"—she looked amused by the word—"then we're going to have to trust each other. Rely on each other. If I'm in trouble, you have to help me, and vice versa. You can't do this without me, and I'm desperate enough to help. And, who knows? We might even become friends."
Friends. Ernesto had never been very good with friends. He wasn't quite sure if he hated the word, or if he was intimidated by it. He'd always believed it to be a sign of weakness, having to rely on someone else, trusting them, letting them past your guard. He'd never been fond of the idea, in this life or the last. He'd always been a bit of a solitary creature, one for being on his own and not one for company. One could almost call him a bit of a sociopath, or at least, the school's counselor had never been against using the word.
Vivie snapped her fingers in front of Ernesto's face, getting his attention again.
"Okay, that? That spacing-out, lost-in-thought thing you're doing? You should really stop. For this kind of work, you need focus, all the focus you can get. You can't not pay attention to what you're doing. Focus is what separates us from them, the victims. They don't pay attention; we do. It's how we get away with what we do." Vivie flipped her mane of dark waves over her shoulder, then she wandered back to her backpack.
"And, so you realize, I'm completely homeless," Vivie tacked on, sounding completely cheerful despite the morbidity of her statement. "If I'm gonna be working for you, then you'd better be willing to give me food, clothing, and shelter, whenever I ask for it." She took another swig from the glass bottle.
"That's not—"
"Part of the agreement?" It was like she read his mind. "Well, Mr. Barbarossa, I don't remember ever settling living arrangements with you before. Since I'm already here…," she trailed off, shrugged, then carried her backpack to the bathroom. "I'm going to shower, and then I'm going to bed, boss. Tomorrow's another day."
Before she shut the door behind her, Ernesto called after her, "Vivie."
She turned back, and he held up her wallet with a smirk. Her jaw dropped, and she barely caught the wallet when he tossed it back to her.
"Best be paying attention," Ernesto said snidely.
Vivie's eyes narrowed, but she sighed. Before she shut herself into the bathroom, she checked her other pockets to make sure nothing else was missing. "Expect the unexpected," she murmured to herself, trying to ignore the way butterflies had entered her stomach at the sight of Ernesto's smile.