Several flights of stairs later, he was being handcuffed to a bed frame, sitting on the floor to ensure maximum humiliation and immobility, of course. Or at least, that is what Craig thought bitterly as two nondescript bodyguards slapped the metal around his wrists. They left him alone with a distinct clack of a locking door. Craig leaned his head against the mattress; at least he had a silent moment alone to think. There was a reason he wasn't immediately carted off to the authorities and he had a couple theories.
The only reason he was here was because of the ancient weapons collection Mr. Heathcliff boasted about often in the papers. If an investigation team got here, they would want to comb over his inventory to ensure Craig hadn't destroyed or gotten away with anything, for the verdict's sake. If the thief had to guess, Rick was trying to hide something; he was trying to prevent too close an eye cast on his toys. This was something Craig could certainly use to his advantage. This meant he had a chance to escape, pack up all of his things and smuggle them to a different country. Occasionally, being paranoid saved his ass; it may seem extreme, but if he was ever found out, he'd be publically humiliated on top of jailed for god knew how long. That was not going to sit well with him; sitting in a cell with nothing but memories of scandal in his mind. He was a high school teacher; there was no plausible way he'd be able to afford a decent lawyer…
That train of thought was interrupted by someone unlocking the door and entering the room. Craig picked his head back up and saw Mr. Richard Heathcliff striding into the room with a devilishly smug look on his handsome features. This time, he was completely dressed, wearing the same slacks Craig had fought him in, but with an added emerald green dress shirt, untucked. Craig fixed a glare on the millionaire, unsure of where this was going; he only had to hope it didn't involve torture.
"Oh good, they did put you in this room," Rick said, pacing around the smallish room, checking the closet and the vanity before pulling up the chair from the desk and sitting down, crossing his leg over the other knee.
"What do you want from me?" Craig spat, "You should turn me over to the police, the FBI, something."
"Oh, I think we can come to an agreement."
"Fuck off; I'd rather go to jail."
"And risk your cute little tenured high school teaching position?"
Craig froze eyes wide. Oh shit, this bastard already knew more about him than he'd tell a polite acquaintance!
"Autolykos, something from the Odyssey, right?" Rick was quick to change the subject, but the hole of horror and anxiety hadn't left the pit of Craig's stomach.
He swallowed hard, "Yes, a demi-god who was well-known for being an invisible thief," he managed to spit out, much less venom in his voice.
"Craig suits you much better."
"H-how much do you know about me?"
Rick gave Craig something of an amused smile, "I could ask you the same, Mr. Renshaw."
Craig paled and felt lightheaded. He was only dimly aware that one of his handcuffs was suddenly released; he was brought back to reality when he was marched to the chair Rick was occupying and his hands handcuffed behind the back, making his shoulders arch and his chest stick out.
"What were you planning on stealing, Mr. Renshaw," Rick more commanded than asked.
"It's no secret that you have a collection," Craig managed to sputter, still recovering from shock.
"You only steal artifacts," Rick pointed out, "I've been keeping up with you. What do you do with them?"
Craig scoffed and looked away; he wasn't going to inform this idiot why he stole millions of dollars of priceless historical artifacts. He was formulating a smug lie when he felt fingers pressing against his chin, forcing him to look up at a pair of intense green eyes. Craig balked, cringing visibly in the chair. He didn't want to show it, but he was really frightened; this man could do whatever he liked and no one would be the wiser. Rick's mouth was curled into a cruel grin; Craig could only guess his fear was obvious on his face regardless.
"It's in your best interest to answer me, Mr. Renshaw."
"Fuck off."
Rick let go of Craig's chin for half a second to slap him soundly across the cheek. Craig was suddenly looking at the closet, wide-eyed and slack jawed; his cheek stung smartly. He turned back toward Rick, who wore a steely expression of challenge. Craig's shocked expression immediately hardened into a fierce glare. There was no way this man was going to break him that easily.
"Clearly you did not hear me, fuck off," Craig snarled, only to be met with another, harder slap.
The room reeled for a moment and Craig could taste the coppery bite of blood from a bitten tongue. He felt the world off-balance but Rick put a firm foot on the space right in front of Craig's crotch to slam the chair right back down. Craig bared his teeth again, feeling dizzy from the sudden loss of balance. Blood trickled down his chin, but he kept his eyes in a firm glare.
Rick's green eyes were intense and dark; Craig was beginning to think it wasn't worth it to keep the secret. The thought passed him by when his gaze settled on the smug smirk on Rick's mouth. He was dead in the water, Craig knew that, but like hell he was going to break that easily. If he was going to spend most of his life in prison, he would go away with his goddamn dignity.
"Someone like you isn't going to do very well in prison, Mr. Renshaw," Rick's thumb brushed away the thin trail of blood across Craig's mouth, making him flinch away in disgust, "Someone soft and almost pretty is not going to have a fun time trying to fight off admirers who happen to be bigger than me. I didn't have too hard a time of knocking you into submission, anyway."
Craig finally deigned to let himself exhale. The fear was starting to show through the cracks due to this "interrogation." He almost didn't trust himself to speak. He knew the consequences here, he always knew them; this wasn't news to him, but the way he said it… It seemed all the more palpable and horrifying. He took a deep breath, trying to wrench his chin away from the strong hand that held it in Rick's gaze.
"So, I know you haven't sold any of the items you've stolen," Rick let Craig's chin drop, "What did you do with them?"
Craig finally lifted his chin in a proud manner, giving Rick an insolent expression, "I kept them."
"Why?"
"I seriously doubt someone as simple as you could understand the necessary things that ancient need to be preserved," Craig scoffed.
Rick moved his foot off of the chair to stare down at the trapped burglar, "Is that so? A history teacher stealing ancient artifacts to preserve them?"
Craig glared right back up at his captor, daring him to come up with another reason he would keep things he'd stolen from museums, rich collection owners, among other places. Rick's expression turned from shocked silence to that goddamned knowing smile that made Craig wish he were in a better situations so he could kick him right in the nads. God, if this asshole knew his full name, he was fucked. He really wished he'd put some trust in storage facilities, but they were so damp and completely unsuited for preserving what he had stolen…
His train of thought was interrupted by Rick moving toward the closet. He flung open the doors and started to hum idly. Craig leaned his head back with a frustrated groan when he realized it was the theme to Pink Panther. Right now, the thief would much rather be dealing with seven-foot prison inmates who hadn't seen a woman in fifteen years rather than this condescending ass.
"I have a proposal for you, Mr. Renshaw," Rick mentioned between choruses, "Hard as you tried, you. Got. Nothing. If I were to turn you in, you could maybe get away with a breaking and entering charge, if they don't pin you for the rest of the stolen goods. Just that alone is maybe… eh, off the top of my head, five years? Ten years?"
Craig didn't even bother to look up at the humming man. That sounded right, for an unarmed robbery, breaking and entering at nighttime. Not that Craig looked it up several times while in the midst of a panic attack; it was just… a guess, yes.
"I'm not sure what bail on that would be, but I'm willing to be lenient. Work for me for the weekend and I'll let you off the hook. No strings, no cops coming after you once you're gone, just being a waiter for a party and then cleaning up afterward," Rick said, still shuffling through the closet.
"As if I would agree to something so humiliating."
"Oh, Mr. Renshaw, you don't even know the half of it."
Regardless of how vague and mildly ominous that sounded, Rick didn't allow any time for Craig to snarl out another answer. He selected a hanger from the closet and laid a dry cleaning bag on the bed without another word, ignoring the swears and threats from the handcuffed burglar. He took one last look at the blonde man before producing a key from his pocket.
"All this will start soon; you can either put on the uniform or get arrested. Your choice, you have five minutes," he said with a smirk and a shrug.
Once Craig's wrists were free, he rubbed the obvious red marks, forgetting he had a chance to attack the millionaire. He was already out of the room, door slammed shut. Craig's eyes darted around the room. There was no other escape route aside from the door he came into. He didn't have much of a choice. He had no tools anymore, no baton, and no way out except for a one-way ticket to the 'downtown' and as much as he bluffed, that didn't sound particularly pleasant. Plus… if he did this, he'd have more of a chance to get the hell out without any issues.
He swallowed hard and stripped off his clothing. He shivered once he was completely naked, opening the dry cleaning back gingerly. Inside there was a simple tuxedo shirt, surprisingly close to his size, if a little smaller than he felt was comfortable. He quickly unbuttoned the shirt off of the hanger, throwing it on in record speed. He tugged on the provided tuxedo trousers, wishing that he'd worn boxers or something for once while he carefully zipped up the fly. The outfit was finished off with a form-fitting vest and a bowtie, which he had no idea how to tie. He slipped on the shoes, discarded at the bottom of the bag and the look was mostly completed, sans the bow tie. The door opened just as he was fumbling with the strip of cloth. Rick stepped back into the room, alone, grinning from ear to ear. Craig wished he could kick the bastard and run, but it wasn't feasible anymore.
"Made your choice?" Rick asked lightly, eyes glinting dangerously, "Let me help you with that."
There was nearly no time between Rick at the door and suddenly Rick right in front of Craig, grasping the bow tie and looping it around the collar of the tuxedo shirt. Craig visibly flinched and glared up at the taller man, but did not move. Rick had one eyebrow raised, eyes focused on tying the bowtie. Craig watched intently, keeping track of the looping movements. Craig's chin was lifted with two fingers to look up at Rick's aggravating smile.
"Ready now, sweetheart?"
"I hate you," Craig said in a low voice.