Summary: You have thirteen attempts to catch the thief, or your thingy-ma-bobs become ours forever. What a pity.
Missing
The first time was chance.
The second time, an irritation.
The third time revealed the pattern.
The fourth time yielded a half-dressed confrontation with a bemused monarch.
The sixth time resulted in a broken Polaroid and a series of maldeveloped photos detailing the camera's ingestion.
The ninth time, a second kingly encounter. He disavowed all knowledge.
The twelfth time, Sarah lovingly rigged a perfume-ink-glitter bomb.
There was no thirteenth time. Jareth commended her method of culprit identification and made reparations.
Scratch that.
The thirteenth time, her favorite panties went missing again. The note explained: "My turn. -J."
A/N: Woo! I kept it to 100 words for once. (Yes I'm still actively/slowly working on ONaN, and less actively on SUSS, but drabbles offer such a nice, quick, don't-have-to-consider-the-impact-on-the-rest-of-the-plot creative jolt.)
