Title: "The Jewel That Can't Be Stolen"
Status: WIP
Fandom: Thief 4
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Garrett, OC's
Disclaimer: Copyright Eidos Montreal. No copyright infringement intended.
Rating: K
Genre: AU, gen
Warning: none
Summary: Upholding the law and keeping the peace...
There was some kind of commotion in front of the Crippled Burrick, drawing a circle of gawkers. The rich and poor passing through the plaza stopped to rub elbows, united in their curiosity and morbid relief that ill luck had spared them.
"Filthy thief!"
A man lay curled up at the feet of another, his shape indistinct through layers of ragged clothes, spattered with mud and grime. A beggar or drunkard, shuddering and groaning as the tip of a shined shoe connected with tender ribs.
"Return what you have stolen!"
Garrett watched from the shadows, unmoved by a scene witnessed too often, eyes instead drawn to the crowd. Distracted targets were easy pickings. Urchins had their daily quota of purses cut and handed over to runners long before the guards stopped their round to share in the afternoon entertainment.
"That's enough!"
A woman elbowed her way to the front of the gathered. Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose auburn curls while her heavy cloak revealed traces of faded silk and lace, bruises, and the smears of too much make-up.
"What striking picture of nobility you make, good sir," she exclaimed with a whore's flair for the dramatic, "to kick a man already lying on the ground."
"Now hear -"
She ignored the flushing noble. Instead of wasting her time with the staring guards or helping the beggar to stand, she bent to briskly pat him down, producing nothing but a crust of stale bread.
"See? No purse, no crime."
There was some more posturing and protesting from his lordship, but in the end, the guards dispersed the crowd and advised him to file an official complaint with their superior. Garrett snorted softly and Lord Ainsley seemed like-minded, both knowing that it would be futile, the money lost. He left his shelter then, intent to reach Basso without further delay.
"My hero," a rough voice muttered just as Garrett slipped through the cellar window. "Thank you, Lydia."