The lock clicked open, and in walked a quite odd man indeed. Although he was much taller than both of the prestigious criminals within the establishment, height was by far his least curious feature. Wide, pensive hawk eyes leered outward past a face riddled with scars and facial hair. Amidst the scraggly and neglected stubble which clung haphazardly to his square jaw, was a rather impressive amber goatee. A thin, well-groomed mustache sat proudly atop the man's lip, his beak-like nose perched above the smooth fibers.
Atop his head, was a dark brown fedora, accented by a small feather, a strange key, and what appeared to be several animal fangs. The rest of the man's apparel was far from unexceptional. Loose tan slacks, a thick aviator's coat of matching shade, and a pair of handsome sienna gloves with heavy combat boots to match. With a click of his tongue, the man banged said boots together and saluted the basement's three occupants with a courteous smile.
"Well, well Basso! I didn't know we were expecting company!" he began again in that odd accent Garrett couldn't quite place. "Jack Danger, at yer service!"
Bowing, the man stepped forward and kicked the door closed behind him. Basso's eyes grew as large and lustrous as two moons, his jaw gaping in exasperation. Clapping his hands together, the boxman slunk down to his knees. Garrett squinted at the perplexity of it all. He couldn't make sense of why Basso had suddenly reverted to the mindset of an easily-impressed apebeast. His old associate had always been at least as intelligent as the average drunken bluecoat. After being hit in the head with a blackjack several times.
"Oh Jack! You're here!" the bearded pauper whimpered in awestruck wonder. "I-I'll go fetch yer tea!"
"Sounds like a jolly good plan, me old bucko!" Jack Danger belted out a rapturous chortle. "Cream and sugar, if ya please."
"Oh, oh yes Jack! Anything you want, Jack!" Basso nodded like an idiot, before scurrying off into the back room. Garrett watched as he nearly tripped himself in the process.
Releasing a loud sigh, the thief chanced a peek at Gwenevere. As per Basso's instruction, she was keeping that trap of hers shut. But for how long, the indignant moonlighter couldn't say. Jack took notice of the hooded criminal's not-so-subtle protest to the situation, tipping his hat in Garrett's direction with another superlative grin.
"'Ello, 'ello! An' just who might you be then?" the extrinsic bloke asked. Before Garrett could bother to answer-let alone care-Jack pointed a finger at him, a look of surprise overtaking his tawny features. "Wait...I've seen yer mug in the papers, I have! Yer the one they call Garrett: Master Thief!"
"Yep, that's me. Who the taff are you?" Garrett remarked dryly, giving Jack little more than a nonchalant shrug.
Basso reappeared from the back room, carrying a tray of tea and cakes. Garrett couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at what he was wearing. Throughout the years, the master criminal had witnessed his bumbling companion don all manner of ridiculous displays. But this one, would be difficult to top. The lacy apron certainly wasn't helping anything.
"Why Garrett! Shame on you!" Basso scolded, shaking a teaspoon at him.
"Shame on me?" Garrett smirked. "I'm not the one wearing an apron. Whose is that anyway, Sophie's?"
The thief's smug grin only continued to lengthen, as Basso flushed an angry beet red.
"Go ahead! Laugh yourself right off!" he snorted. "At least I know how to be sociable in the presence of greatness!"
"Who, this guy?" Garrett asked, choosing to ignore Basso's tomfoolery. Again, Jack exhibited an overly-dramatic bow.
"Why, I'm Jack Danger! Thought I already mentioned that, hmmm..." he held his head up in contemplation, stroking his goatee.
"And...so who is he?" Garrett leaned closer to Basso. "And why exactly do you care?"
"Only the bravest, most masculine explorer ever, Garrett!" Basso reverently whispered, gawking wide-eyed at Jack. "Ain't that reason enough?"
"They say hero worship is a sign of a weak mind, Basso," Garrett muttered. "Though coming from you, I'm not exactly surprised..."
He smirked at his own remark, then glanced at Gwenevere. It was more of a suspicious inspection, than any courtesy. With a girl like that, even Garrett knew he'd best keep a constant eye on her. To his relief, she hadn't moved since that barrel-chested beefhead had entered the basement. To be frank, he was surprised that Jack hadn't even noticed her yet. Perhaps the girl was learning a thing or two from him after all.
Gwenevere smiled beneath the confines of her mentor's stuffy cloak. It smelled of old wood and smoke, from both pipe and chimney. She glanced outward at Garrett to find him watching her through that gyrating green eye of his. Due to the dim confines of Basso's home, she could not tell if the thief's expression was agitated, or just bored. Humans were usually so expressive, but it had always been hard to tell what that one was thinking at any given moment.
Turning her eyes upward, she noticed the slightest hint of movement from atop the gaudy adventurer's beige leather jacket. Try as she had, Gwenevere failed to contain the delighted squeal that left her lips when she realized what it was. A curious lemur shifted, its ringed tail brushing against Jack's neck as it turned to meet the girl creature's trill with its dazzling yellow eyes.
Even those who had been made to endure the invalidation of their spirits via domestication, never failed to recognize her. The heart always remembers what the mind cannot. And as the primate trailed down its captor's arm, closer towards the girlish sprite and her fascinated stare, Ophelia the lemur knew exactly what sort of being now beckoned to her with a fragile, outstretched hand. She sniffed the girl's trembling extremity, before nudging her wooly head up and between Gwenevere's thin fingers. Jack heard his pet croon and purr, prompting him to turn around. Both Garrett and Basso simultaneously froze, as the outrageous adventurer noticed their cloaked little waif.
"Oh? And who's this then?" Jack inquired, peering into the darkness concealing Gwenevere's face. The girl quickly averted her gaze, tugging the cowl tighter around her profile. "Aw, now come on, sweetheart! There's no need to be shy!" Jack coaxed, but to no avail. After all, Gwenevere took any of the instructions given by her new underworld family, very seriously.
Basso waddled forward, stepping between Jack and Gwenevere before the eager fortune-hunter could attempt to corral her.
"Ah, yes! Allow me to introduce to you, my cousin's mute daughter, Bethany!" the boxman announced, adhering to his earlier plan. Garrett shook his head, rubbing his temples.
Jack Danger's lips curled upward, his expression animalistic and devious. Gwenevere gasped as the man reached out and grabbed her hand, Basso's blockade far from effective against the womanizing scoundrel.
"Pleasure to meet you, luvvie. The name's Danger. Jack Danger. Peril's a close friend of mine, so if you're ever in trouble, ya know who ta call. I'll work out the kinks," he winked. "Looks like my sweet Ophelia likes you!"
Gwenevere's insides writhed like dying eels, as she tried to retract her extremity from the strange man and his hungry lips. Each kiss felt like a violation, as though he were stripping away her safety. Yet, due to the promise she'd made Basso, the girl couldn't do much about it. She turned and looked at Garrett again. Somehow, the sight of his disheveled frown brought her comfort. Although his scorn seemed rather striking in that moment. Intense, and wicked.
Garrett seethed as he watched Jack continue to caress his apprentice's arm. The entire scene was sickening, untoward and completely unprofessional. Although Basso spoke highly of Jack, revered him as some great hero, the thief had yet to see any evidence of this for himself. At the time, Garrett credited the flamboyant gentleman's lack of propriety conducive to why he loathed him. But he would later discover, that this was far from the truth.
Perhaps those inexplicable, conflicting emotions were what urged the reticent moonlighter to inquire about the strange pet; a topic which Garrett would have normally taken no interest in. Anything to end this uncomfortable stalemate. To get out of Basso's hovel quicker.
"So Jack. You a fan of Willy Shakensphere then?" the thief asked.
Jack finally released Gwenevere's hand, much to her relief. Ophelia took this opportunity to clamber down from her owner's arm, and onto Gwenevere's. The girl proceeded to cuddle and stroke the lemur, as Jack faced Garrett.
"Oh no, I prefer mine stirred!" the explorer smiled. "Anyway mate, I've just had meself a cuppa coffee, so I'll take a rain check if ya don't mind!"
Garrett blinked. It took every ounce of inner strength and self-mastery to keep his jaw from flopping open in abject exasperation.
"Shakensphere, was a famous author. 'A Midwinter's Daytime Nightmare', that Hammerite/Pagan romance everyone seems so enamored with?" Garrett explained. Jack acquired a clueless expression, and blinked. "Ian Cribs even ripped off the idea for that last one with his flop of a play, 'Reginald and Conandra Forest Princess'."
"Really now?" Jack smirked. "I had no idea."
"None of this is ringing a bell for you, huh?"
"'Fraid not, mate. Why'd you even ask about any of that tosh?" the explorer chuckled. Garrett bristled at that.
"Because, I couldn't help but notice that your pet lemur has a rather interesting name. Ophelia was the name of a character in another of his famous tales," he groused.
"Naw, she was named after me first wife she was," Jack replied, still laughing. "I never learned to read. It's a complete waste of time when there's so much adventure to be had!"
And in that moment, Garrett acquired another reason to despise Mr. Danger.
Basso gasped, stepping away from Gwenevere and out in front of Jack again.
"Ooh! Ooh! Hey Jack! I've got a black and white pet, too!" Basso interrupted, gesturing to his magpie with both hands. Jack Danger stepped away from the agitated Garrett, snuffing out his cigar in the process. He leaned before Jenivere's perch, scrutinizing the bird with a critical sneer.
"Oi, yeah, she's quite a beaut!" he nodded, cigar still clenched tightly between his immaculate white teeth. "Circa, 1552, if I'm not mistaken."
"Oh no, she was hatched just under six years ago, Jack," Basso corrected with a grin.
"I was referrin' to the discovery of the common magpie, good mate," Jack replied, shooting the boxman a perspicuous glare.
"Oh! Oh yes, I knew that!" Basso boomed with laughter, hoping that his gleeful antics would mask his overwhelming embarrassment. But his rosy cheeks betrayed his bluff. When it was evident from both Garrett's sneers, and Jack's complete lack of interest, the boxman decided to change the subject.
"Y-ya know, I named my pet after my ex-wife too!" Basso added, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets. "I always try my best to follow the way of Jack Danger, after all!"
Garrett rolled his eyes, and groaned again. He'd had just about all he could take of Basso's newest brand of outlandish behavior. While the distracted explorer continued to examine Jenivere, Garrett tugged Basso aside with unexpected force. Gwenevere, was far too preoccupied with Ophelia to even take notice.
"Basso, quit acting like a lunatic already. You're making a bigger ass of yourself than usual," Garrett growled in a low, gravelly voice.
The boxman raised an eyebrow, clearly offended.
"Aw, come on now Garrett! No need to be jealous!"
"Yeah, jealous," the thief scoffed "You and Perilous Jackass over there should just go shack up in a Molly House already."
"WHAT?! How DARE you for even suggestin' that, ya senseless taffer!" Basso shouted, startling both Gwenevere and Jack in the process.
"Everything alright, Basso? Your tea is getting cold," the curious pathfinder called from the other side of the hovel.
"Be there in a moment, Jack!" Basso replied, flustered. Turning back to Garrett, he lowered his voice. "Why on earth would you even ASSUME that Jack and I are..."
"Well that's just how it's starting to look from here. I've seen you ogle bar wenches less than you do that guy!"
"I don't swing that way Garrett, and you know it! I don't wanna sleep with Jack! I just wants to sleep with the types of gals Jack does! What's the harm in following a template, eh mate?"
"Basso. There's following a template, and then there's tracing the template until the template's worn through."
"Eh, please yerself," Basso waved him off, shaking his head. Turning back to the dashing gentleman, the boxman's eyes began to twinkle. Sauntering back over to Jack, Basso offered the man a second cup of tea and a slice of cake. The boxman continued to watch through livid eyes, as his guest began to partake of the delicious refreshments.
"Wonderful, I say! Simply wonderful," Jack complimented, passing his lemur a tiny bit of crust. "Do I detect a hint of Chamomile?"
"Nothing but the best for you, Jack," Basso puffed out his chest with pride. Then, just as quickly, he grew rigid again. Eyes as meek and hopeful as a young lad's, the boxman twiddled his fingers. "H-hey Mr. Danger? Tell us all about one of your many daring adventures."
"Oh? But do we have the time?" Jack took a sip of his tea. "I do have somewhere to be, Basso. Once our business is concluded, hmm?"
"Aw come on, Jack!" Basso persisted in a rather shameful display of kneeling and clapping his hands together. "It isn't every day I have so many guests and all. Pleeeeease?!"
Garrett gazed upon the remains of a once-respected member of the underworld; now little more than a slobbering, headsick buffoon. Sometimes, it truly was tragic to be reminded of just how far Basso the Boxman had fallen from glory. But then again, Basso had chosen to deviate from such shadowy renown years ago, and although Garrett had always disapproved, there was naught to be done about it. The thief sighed, and shook his head.
Basso, you're so pathetic, he thought.
Jack smiled a little at the entire situation, his green eyes glinting amidst the struggling flames of an oil lamp, as they clung to life within the recesses of that dreary place.
"Well now, I don't see why not!" he looked directly at Gwenevere, and winked. "After all, what kind of debonair adventurer would I be, if I didn't tantalize the lady's eardrums with tales of my heroism?"
A sensible one, Garrett thought.
Taking a seat in Basso's chair, Jack propped his feet up on the desk. Bits of mud and gravel soiled the newspaper the boxman had been reading prior, but Basso didn't seem to care. His brown eyes were glazed, his posture slumped forward in surreal admiration, as his personal hero began to speak.
"Now, are any of you familiar with the dreaded wolly-woggen?" the explorer asked, his accent thick with the captivating enticement of which only a master storyteller could ever possess.
"Why no, Jack," Basso was, of course, the first to respond. "What the taff IS a wolly-woggen?!"
"A made-up creature, obviously," Garrett intruded with a dry laugh. Both Jack and Basso shot him an incredulous, vehement stare.
"Garrett! How could you say such a thing?!"
"What, the truth?" the thief shrugged. Basso was livid.
"How the taff would you even know?! Jack's a world-famous adventurer! He's been around the world countless times! To my knowledge, you've never even set foot outside the City!"
"That's more or less true," Garrett admitted, "I mean, it's not as though I was personally trained by some of the greatest minds in the land, and practically grew up around books for my primary entertainment source."
The cynical moonlighter's words, were all but lost upon the current company he found himself amidst.
"There ya go again mate, about them books!" Jack sneered. Pointing to the ivory canines lining his fedora, he continued with, "if wolly-woggens ain't real, then where did I get these?!"
Garrett sat in silence for several seconds, staring up at the gleaming fangs as they mocked him from across the room. For a moment, he appeared defeated. Jack shot Basso a smug grin, then nodded. But striking when his enemy least expected it, had always been one of Garrett's strong points.
"Some filthy alley, most like. Those are dog's teeth," the thief smirked.
Instantly, the adventurer recoiled, his frown deep against the backdrop of shadows lining his face. Basso grumbled something under his breath, before storming over to Garrett.
"Oh, Garrett! Why must you doubt such a brave man as Jack Danger?" he demanded. "Why are you so against immersing yourself in his wisdom?"
The thief's bold expression shattered, and in its place, bloomed forth the unspeakable visage of incredulous ire.
"His wisdom?! Okay. I'm done," Garrett threw up his arms, and started back across the room towards Gwenevere. The girl was still playing with Danger's lemur. Basso lept back.
"What?! Garrett, no! Wait!" he hollered, the amount of sheer desperation within his words pitiful. The hooded man looked over his shoulder only once, before grabbing up his apprentice by the arm.
"We're leaving Basso."
Garrett proceeded to pull Gwenevere forward, much to the hisses and protests of her new friend. Noticing this, Jack rocketed out of his seat, and stormed over to the agitated criminal.
"Woah there! Easy, mate! Ya can't go draggin' around a lady like that!" he reprimanded, blocking Garrett's exit. A terrible mistake. The thief leered up at him, with eyes like that of a fearsome killer.
"Just watch me..." he snarled under his breath.
Jack, was unimpressed. After all, Garrett was a good foot shorter than he. His stern frown softened, and without a moment's hesitation, the explorer clasped the thief's shoulder. Garrett recoiled with a violent jerk, the speed of his reflexes most unsettling to the unsuspecting 'hero'.
"Touch me again, and you better hope those skills of yours are real..." Garrett warned in a guttural tone.
"Easy there, mate," Jack ushered the bristling moonlighter to stand down. "I just wanna talk, a'right?"
"There's nothing to talk about," Garrett hissed. "And I'm not your mate..."
"Eh, all in good time," Danger chuckled. "Now, listen up-because you might be just the sort of bloke I'm looking for to complete a difficult task."
"Not interested," the thief refused, pushing his way past the man. Jack scowled as he did so, and that's when Basso noticed the silver key shimmering from its clip upon the adventurer's hat.
"Hey! That's new!"
Jack turned and smiled at the boxman, unfastening the key from his headwear.
"Oh yes! Well, that's just what I wanted to talk to Garrett about. You see, this key unlocks the old McFrier Estate."
"Wasn't that the place where those nobles were murdered under mysterious circumstances?" Basso's eyes widened as he spoke. Jack nodded.
"Correct. Yet, even still, it is rumored that the culprits didn't make off with the bounty secured in the large family safe. Those amateurs simply didn't have the skills required to bust such a sticky wicket of a combination," glancing back down at Garrett, the sly explorer grinned. "But I know who does..."
"Yeah! That's a great idea, Jack!" Basso clapped. "Garrett will do it!"
"What?!" the thief raised his voice in conspicuous disapproval. "Aren't you called the boxman for a reason, Basso? You do it-I already refused."
"I know, but this is different," Basso whined.
"How so?"
"Well...i-it just is, see?" the boxman harrumphed. Garrett rolled his eyes.
"It's too damn risky, and you know it," the thief condescended. "And if even you can smell the rat here, then it would take a complete neophyte to get tangled up in this mess..."
At this point, Jack intervened. He stepped between the two arguing men, and clicked his tongue. His lemur trilled, then jumped out of Gwenevere's arms and back onto her master's shoulders. Using her tiny fingers, Ophelia fetched the winking key from the adventurer's fedora, and clambered back down Jack's arm. She handed the key to Garrett, looking up at him with her intense yellow eyes. The master thief merely sneered at what others might have considered a charming gesture.
"Well go on," Jack encouraged with a wave of his hand. "Take it. In case ya change yer mind."
Garrett stared at the man, swiped the key from the lively primate, and let it fall to the dirt floor with a melodramatic twist of his hand. The thief's bi-colored stare intensified, as it fixated upon the egotistical lady-killer with the bad mustache.
"Listen up, Jack: I'm. Not. Interested," Garrett clarified. Basso huffed again.
"Garrett! Why in the heck do you have to be a taffin' jerk at a time like this?!"
"Like this?" Garrett mused. "Now come on Basso. You know me better than that."
"Aye. Though I sometimes wish I didn't..."
Basso shoved his cold hands deep into the pockets of his lacy pink apron, and signed. Beneath the confines of her borrowed cover, Gwenevere's eyes watched with feline curiosity as the silver key glinted and teased beyond her reach. She tried to resist, but something about that small object enraptured her fanciful mind. Garrett's attention was triggered, as she bent down to retrieve it.
"GWEN-" he caught himself, albeit barely. But it was already far too late.
Gwenevere froze, looking up at her hoodless mentor. She hesitated for only a moment, his fierce gaze holding her like a hunter facing down a spellbound deer. But like those agile, ruminant mammals of the deep woodsie, her instincts eventually overcame blind fear and obedience. With a worrying, unnatural swiftness, her tiny hands swept up the key.
Jack crooked an eyebrow at that, and faced Basso. The boxman turned beet red, a stupid, toothy grin taking form across his face. Then, he shot Garrett a murderous glare.
"I thought you said her name was Bethany..." the explorer crossed his arms.
"Oh, uh...it is!" Basso mended, rather clumsily. "Bethany, Gwen Grubbs!"
"Interesting..." Jack twirled his mustache. "Well now, Garrett. Even if you have no sense of greed or adventure left within your rusted bones, Basso's second cousin sure seems bloody well interested!"
"She is! She is!" Basso nodded vigorously.
"No she isn't..." Garrett intercepted. Basso sent a poisonous scowl in his direction.
"Yes! Bethany can do it! She's a thief in training, she is! Garrett here's her teacher!" Basso continued to oversell Gwenevere's talents, and Garrett continued to ask himself why.
"Is that so?" Jack put his hands on his hips. "Well then, best of luck to you, young Bethany! I sincerely hope you're successful in carrying out this little feat. Why, with Basso and Garrett by your side, no doubt that we'll all be rich as kings by Christmas!"
Don't count on it... Garrett shook his head. He watched as Jack banged his boots together again, before saluting the three of them.
"Well, time is short and I really must fly. Basso! Keep me updated on young Bethany's progress! I've got a bottle of chardonnay with her name on it once that lock is sprung!"
"Will do, Jack!" Basso saluted back. It was a clumsy, nonsensical display to say the least. "I'll keep ya updated on all the details!"
"Jolly good," the advantageous vagabond clapped.
Ophelia took this opportunity to scurry down from his shoulders again, practically careening herself back into Gwenevere's unsuspecting arms. Jack laughed.
"It looks as though my feisty Ophelia really has taken a right shining to ya, young Bethany," he noted. Gwenevere said nothing, nodding instead to validate Danger's theory. Garrett scowled down at her.
"Come on...Bethany. It's time to go," he ordered.
Again, silence permeated the air in place of the girl's strident voice. Gwenevere nodded again, and hugged the playful creature goodbye. But Ophelia, was far from satisfied with that. The adoring creature had just made a new friend, after all. And she did not want their fun to end so abruptly.
As Gwenevere proceeded to urge the lemur back onto Jack's awaiting arm, Ophelia turned and bounded away. Her limber little hands caught the side of Gwenevere's hood in the process of the creature's daring escape, bringing it down against the back of her neck. Basso gasped, as he watched Danger's expression grow pallid.
Gwenevere's exposed face flushed a deep pink, her reaction and demeanor akin to a woman who'd just lost a great deal more coverage. Garrett reacted immediately, forsaking the initial shock which had so easily claimed his chubby companion. He pushed his way past Jack and Basso, grabbed Gwenevere by her right arm and shoulder, and began ushering the flustered girl out through the back door of the hovel.
Somehow, this course of action shook the boxman from his stupor. Joining the thief, Basso wrapped one hand around Gwenevere, and flung open the back door with the other. Jack watched on in astonishment, his lemur trilling with glee against his earlobe.
"I say! Your second cousin looks a great deal like Lord Simmons's missing daughter!" he pointed, mouth agape.
"No she doesn't!" Basso sputtered hastily, slamming the back door once Garrett and his mild-mannered apprentice had exited the establishment.
Turning back to his hero, the boxman gave him another of his infamous silly grins.
"Now, about them tea cakes. They ain't gonna finish themselves, ya know!"
***
THE CLOCKTOWER:
LATER THAT EVENING:
Once back within the protective walls of his sanctum, Garrett began the undesirable act of training Gwenevere. He stood in a corner, watching as the girl tried-and failed-at the most basic instruction. He'd lost count of how many times she'd fallen, during the course of that windy night.
Glancing outward over the blustery world below, the thief wondered how long it would be until snowfall. That was always a cause for consideration in his line of work. Bad weather was dangerous to those who ran along rooftops, or those who kept to high places in general, the way he did. The way she was going to-if she could ever manage to keep both feet on the ground.
"No, no," he shook his head, pipe smoke encircling his face before wafting out the tower window. "Keep your feet flat, and your back straight."
Gwenevere looked up at him, still wobbling a bit atop the discarded beam. Standing on one leg, was harder than she expected it to be. Garrett took another puff of his pipe, exhaling through his teeth as he glared at her. It wouldn't be long now. It never was.
Another howling gale violated the tower, causing the preoccupied girl to startle. Gwenevere wailed as she lost her balance yet again, and fell. Garrett released a frustrated sigh, and stared down at the pile of blue and red at his feet. The girl's eyes met his, though they were full of shame rather than glee that night.
"Gwenevere," the thief began, meeting her gaze. "I don't say this lightly, but you have got to be the most clumsy person I've ever had the misfortune of knowing."
The girl's shame was replaced by bitter ire; a biting misery concealed within those vibrant eyes, as she continued to meet his pensive gaze. It was aggravating for her, to be trying so hard and yet never being applauded for this. Instead, her mentor would only scold. How was anyone supposed to learn a thing from such a discouraging method?
"I'm doing my best over here!" she cried, her red bangs dangling messily into her eyes. "It took me five minutes to fall that time!"
"Amazing," Garrett groused, taking another puff from his pipe. He blew the excess smoke into Gwenevere's face. "Do you know how long it takes me to lose my balance?"
"No," Gwenevere coughed, her face flooded with contempt.
"Neither do I. Because it's never happened before," the thief boasted. Gwenevere jolted to her feet, her temper flaring.
"It's not fair of you to make such a comparison, ya know?! You're a master thief, and I'm still learning!" she argued.
A part of Garrett urged him to scold her for that insolent tongue, but his dry wit won the battle for domination that round.
"Well I don't know-it takes some real skill to trip over flat surfaces like that..." he berated with a smug grin. Gwenevere muttered something under her breath, and crossed her arms.
"It wouldn't kill you to be nice once in a while, would it?"
"Probably not. But what would be the point?" Garrett retorted.
"People might like you more," the naïve girl shrugged. The thief released another puff of smoke, along with a gravelly chortle.
"I'm a thief, Gwenevere. I don't particularly care if I'm liked or not."
Gwenevere pondered those words for a moment, before finding a slight blemish in the rogue's otherwise sound reasoning.
"But Basso's a thief too, and you're usually really mean to him!" she challenged.
"Basso brings that on himself," Garrett frowned. "You see the sort of company he keeps. Like that Prick Peril, or whatever his name was."
"Jack Danger," Gwenevere corrected, completely missing the intended insult. Garrett stared vehemently down at her.
"Yeah. Him," he took another inhalation. "Which reminds me-what were you doing playing with his filthy pet like that anyway?"
"Ophelia was NOT filthy, Garrett!" Gwenevere shouted, balling her fingers into a tight fist. "She was sweet and friendly, and cute!"
"Uh-huh. And I'll bet Dangerous Jackass felt the same way about you..." the thief quipped. "You know, for a noble, you have some really weird interests."
"For a thief, you're not very honorable," Gwenevere retorted. Her words nearly caused Garrett to choke on his own pipe.
"What the hell?! Who in the world told you that thieves were an honorable lot?!" he demanded.
"Basso," the girl remarked proudly, her eyes closed in satisfaction. Garrett burst out laughing.
"And you actually believed him?!"
Gwenevere's face turned beet red, her cheeks inflating with hot air.
"Hey! What's so funny?!"
"Anyone who takes Basso seriously deserves to be laughed at. You've met the guy."
"Yes, and he's a very nice guy!" Gwenevere defended. The thief's smile crumbled.
"Whatever," he groused. "I suppose it takes a fool to appreciate a fool."
Gwenevere turned up her nose, pretending she didn't hear her mentor's latest insult. She cleared her throat and cracked her knuckles.
"So, what's the deal with Jack Danger anyway? Why does Basso like him so much?" she asked, changing the subject. Garrett rolled his eyes.
"Damned if I know. Judging from that accent, I'd say he must be from Umberstorm Island."
"Umberstorm Island?" the girl repeated, curious. Garrett continued to enjoy his pipe, looking out over the nocturnal world below.
"Way back when, the baron's ancestors decreed that all dangerous criminals be rounded up like cattle, and shipped to some distant island in the south seas. This Jack Danger character must be one of their decedents," he explained.
"I see...is that why Basso says he's a world traveler? Does Jack Danger have a boat or something?"
"I don't know, Gwenevere," Garrett groaned, rubbing his temples. "He had that lemur with him, and those things aren't exactly native to either the City or Umberstorm. He must have ventured somewhere abroad to obtain the fleabag, though I highly doubt he's as well-traveled as he claims," the moonlighter snorted, recalling the dashing womanizer's boasts at wrestling a 'wolly-woggen'.
The girl dusted herself off and sauntered over to where her new outfit was drying. Soap suds and water still covered the floor from where she had done a rather sloppy job of scrubbing the ensemble. It now hung limp, the deep purple material reminding her of nocturnal heather growing beside the river. She plucked the damp tunic off of the extended beam and gave it a sniff. Aside from a hint of what was once a very pungent perfume, the object smelled quite fresh and clean now.
As she continued to tend to the cloth, it occurred to Gwenevere that both Basso and Garrett dressed in considerably darker materials than she did, and with little to no attention to fashion or flair. An innocent Gwenevere wondered why this was. Perhaps, it had to do with the rather unscrupulous work they did. Or perhaps, it was something else entirely. The renegade princess, really couldn't say for certain.
"I think it'll work, if I just do as Basso said and belt it in a bit," Gwenevere looked over her shoulder at Garrett, still holding up the dark tunic. The thief scoffed.
"You're not actually gonna wear that, are you? It probably came from the fattest, most unattractive broad you can imagine."
"What does that matter?" Gwenevere cocked her head, turning back to face her new garment. "Why do you feel it necessary to judge everyone so harshly anyway, Garrett?"
"What's it to you?"
"Well, I was just curious is all. And anyway, even if Jack was lying about all the places he's been, I thought what he said to me was very nice," the girl commented. "Everyone has faults and flaws, ya know? Even if he is a pathological liar, he could still be a really nice man!"
"You realize he just wants to taff you, right?" Garrett raised an eyebrow at her, watching as the innocent girl's face contorted with mortified disgust.
"I-is that why he was kissing my arm like that?!" she gasped.
"Let me think. Uh, yeah," the thief put out his pipe. "Why else would he bother with you? Unless he's lost his mind, that is. He did seem to think that you could open that safe..."
"Maybe I can!" the girl bit back.
"No, ya can't," the hooded criminal replied artlessly. "You can't sneak. You can't spring a lock. You can barely go two minutes without making some sort of annoying sound."
Gwenevere watched the gleaming orange embers of Garrett's pipe, as he set the object down upon the window ledge. The deadly fangs she kept hidden behind soft lips and the illusion of human teeth began to grind together. She was furious by this point. Garrett wasn't giving her so much as a chance.
"You know, you're a terrible teacher if you give up on your student so easily!" she accused.
"We've already been through this, Gwenevere," Garrett shook his head. "You're not my student. You're a job."
"Well, coming from where you stand, isn't that even worse?" the green-eyed pixie countered. The thief glowered at her.
"What are you implying, exactly?" his tone deepened a bit.
"You take your jobs so very seriously, or at least you used to..." Gwenevere began, feeling timid as the words left her mouth. "Would you give up on a job that wasn't me?"
There was a challenging quality to her words, one that caused the usually confident Garrett to hesitate. He stared at her through the shadows of the tower, watching as the moonlight cast dismal shades of icy blue across her pale features. It was almost eerie. Licking the back of his teeth, he pondered her question for several seconds before attempting an answer.
Although he would never outwardly admit it, he knew Gwenevere had a good point. Garrett had never given up on a job, no matter how arduous or challenging it became. Pulsating wounds, unexpected circumstances twisted into existence by a god who despised him. Traps set by those who'd somehow caught wind of his intrusion in advance. Nothing had ever kept the master thief from his goals.
Just as he was part and parcel to peril and treachery, Garrett was also no stranger to tolerating the presence of those whom he'd rather forget existed. He had grown up around stodgy robed men who shared little of his interests and insights-to the point of openly chastising him for such behaviors. He had also lived with the Pagans for close to six months, during the events of Karras's mad dynasty. It was an unfortunate situation, to say the least. But his safehouse had been compromised, and with every Mechanist and bluecoat scouring the City for him, it was the best option the thief had at the time.
Garrett had suffered in silence, and persevered through every challenge his world had thrown at him. So how was it, that this wide-eyed damsel managed to unnerve him so?
"No, I wouldn't," he finally answered. "And I never said that I was giving up on you, Gwenevere. Those were your own words."
"You've been saying it all along with your actions towards me though," the runaway argued.
Garrett turned away, releasing a furious sputter from his lips. He hated just how right she was.
"Regardless, I'm not about to let Jeopardy Jackass consume my thoughts," he grumbled, leaning over his candlelit table. "The man's up to something-that much is obvious. And I've got a heist to plan for."
"A heist?" Gwenevere cocked her head. From beneath the folds of his reclaimed cloak, the thief grinned. His distraction, had been successful.
"Yeah, in a week," he muttered, his words only half-cognizant.
"Ooh, can I go with you and help out?" the girl began to bound up and down.
"No."
"Why not?" the young woman persisted. Garrett placed his hand down upon the map he'd been surveying, and glared at her.
"I have another lesson for you tomorrow night. You can occupy your overactive mind with that."
Gwenevere lept back, a mixture of surprise and distress coating her features.
"What?! Another one? B-but you just tested my stealth this evening!" she pleaded.
"Right," Garrett nodded, "and not much has changed. In fact, you still have a very long way to go. All of my previous charges could at least keep their balance when they came to me."
"So, what exactly is your end goal?" Gwenevere asked, chewing on her hair again.
"My end goal, it to satisfy Basso, keep his money, and get my tower back."
"I meant in terms of my training," the girl clarified, tapping her foot. Garrett merely shrugged.
"Same applies. But if you want to set your sights on something actually reachable in the coming weeks, I want you to be able to sneak up on someone and pickpocket the taffer by the end of the month."
"In just a month?!" the girl gaped at him. Garrett gave her a nonchalant look, and blinked.
"Yes," his tone served to illustrate just how little he thought of her. "If you can't do something that simple after a month of my training, then this entire arrangement is pointless."
Gwenevere bit her bottom lip. It would be difficult, for sure. But if Garrett believed it was possible, she knew she had to try.
"So, you're going on this new mission alone?" she asked.
"Isn't it obvious?"
"But I don't understand. Where will I go?"
"You're staying here," the thief snapped. Gwenevere cringed at his response.
"But Basso said-"
"-I know what Basso said!" Garrett cut her off by slamming his fists down onto the table. "Forget it! In case you haven't noticed, I'm used to being completely alone. And spending every waking moment with a hyperactive kid like you is driving me insane!"
Gwenevere's eyes shimmered with both fear and hurt in response to his verbal onslaught.
"I see..." she mumbled.
Sinking back down to her knees, she proceeded to crawl over to her chosen spot on the stair landing. Curling up onto her dark blue cloak, the young woman shut her eyes. Tears pricked her eyelashes, as her heart once again flooded with an uncomfortable heat.
Why was Garrett always so eager to push her away? She just wanted to help him. After all, he had already helped her so much.
Without his guidance, the young woman knew that she would have never known what to do, or how to get by alone within the harsh underbelly of this city. There was no argument whatsoever. Garrett, had saved her life. Was it really so wrong to want to repay such a debt? As her mentor continued his preparations, Gwenevere wiped her eyes, and tried to rest. It had been a long day; and one that she would sooner like to forget.
As she nodded off, Garrett released a loud, frustrated sigh. He sneered, his eyes narrowing as he continued to survey the layout of Cunningham's Boutique. Tracing his thin index finger across the parchment, his lack of restraint began to concern him. He didn't usually snap like that, and it worried him to consider that Gwenevere was causing him to lose his self-control.
He looked up, pressing his lips together as Gwenevere's inescapable question repeated itself like a constant mantra amidst his troubled thoughts:
Would you give up on a job that wasn't me?
Garrett squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a migraine beginning to take hold within the back of his skull.
"No. I wouldn't. So why does simply being around you make me so uncomfortable?"