THIEF: THE MIDNIGHT VEIL

01: "A BAD IDEA"

GARRETT'S APARTMENT
SOUTH QUARTER, THE CITY
~ One night after the job at First City Bank & Trust ~

     Garrett closed his eyes and listened to the storm outside. That night was a beautiful one.
     The stars and moonlit sky shone through the lone window of his apartment - a soothing hue of deep blue that cast a pillar of moonlight against the far wall opposite of his bed, just out of range of the glow of the single candle lit by his bedside.
     Rain fell outside to the cobbled streets with its familiar soft and pleasant pitter-patter; quite lulling to the senses, if one allowed it to be... but Garrett did not.
     The Master Thief and ex-Keeper had many unwritten rules, and one of them was to never fall into the trap of a false sense of security. For him, letting his guard down was to not just send an invitation to Misfortune, but to hold the door open for her - and Misfortune, Garrett knew, was not one to be teased.
     The City was unforgiving to such folly, and he knew better than most.
     Garrett sighed quietly and opened his eyes to watch the raindrops stream down the window's glass. He had just infiltrated the First City Bank and Trust the night before.
     The First City Bank. Not only had he survived its elaborate security - human and mechanical alike - Garrett had also managed to walk away with an impressive haul of loot... and yet, the man was frustrated. So much had been going on that he couldn't even bask in the afterglow of his success. Not entirely. Not like he had always planned to if he had ever been able to pull off a heist at the bank.
     Instead of relaxing and kicking his feet up with a good bottle of wine and counting his coin, Garrett was sitting on the edge of his bed listening to the rainstorm outside, tapping a restless finger on the recording of Sheriff Gorman Truart that he had lifted from one of the vaults.
     He was planning to use it to blackmail Truart, and the idea he had in mind would require him to pay a visit to Truart Estate.
     Blackmailing the Sheriff of the City Watch. This was what it had come to. When had things become so damn complicated?
     A flurry of obvious reasons sprouted to mind, but before he could dwell for much longer on the matter, Garrett heard a knock at his door.
     His eyes snapped to the doorway across the room, and almost without thinking he extinguished the candle's flame with a quick pinch of his fingers and stuffed the recording under his pillow.
     He did not move, nor make a sound.
     When the unknown visitor knocked again, the man stood swiftly from his bed and plucked his dagger off the bedside table in one quick, silent motion.
     Landlord at this hour? Not likely. Truart and his men? They would not knock.
     The downpour outside grew heavier, so he took advantage of the noise to quickly glide across the floorboards of his room, the wood beneath his bare feet cold to the touch. He thought he heard the muffled call of a woman's voice just outside, but he couldn't be sure.
     He gingerly pressed himself to the wall, half expecting some vague, forgotten horror left behind by the Trickster to come crashing through, eager to sate its appetite for flesh.
     That notion was certainly not without merit.
     The knocking came again. "It's me!" a woman called in a hushed whisper. "It's Flor."
     Garrett's eyes widened with recognition. He sheathed his dagger, unlocked the door, and guardedly cracked it open to reveal a woman wearing a grey cloak over a dress, her hood hiding most of her face.
     He could tell who it was even with her hood on. It was Florence, Basso's sister.
     She broke into a wide smile. "Garrett. I'm sorry to show up like this."
     He stepped aside and hurriedly ushered her in without a word, casting a careful glance around the street outside for any onlookers before shutting the door behind them both. He swiftly strode to his window and drew the curtains shut.
     "I was worried you were out for the night," Florence said lowly, wiping rainwater from her face. She removed her hood, exposing long, brown hair that fell just past her shoulders. "Thank you."
     "For what?"
     "Letting me in. It's a hard rain tonight."
     "It's good to see you, Florence." Garrett gestured to his small desk, where a chair awaited, and the woman took a seat. "Though it's unexpected."
     She smiled ruefully. "Quite. But you know I would never show up unannounced like this unless it was serious."
     "Mm." Garrett folded his arms and leaned against the wall near the window. "That's what I'm afraid of."
     The woman sighed and brushed rogue strands of hair from her eye. "I wasn't followed. I know you're wondering."
     "You sure?"
     "You don't trust me?"
     "I don't trust anyone."
     Florence rolled her eyes. "You don't trust many," she corrected, "because you would never have let me in, otherwise. There are probably only two other people alive who have ever set foot in your apartment - your landlord and my brother - but that's not the point."
     "And how is Basso, anyway?"
     "Never better. He and Jenivere are doing exactly what they planned. Living the quiet life in the country an' all that."
     Garrett let out a low whistle. "They made it outside The City?" He shifted on his feet. "How 'bout that."
     "Indeed." Florence smiled softly. "Thank you for that. What you did at Cragscleft and Rumford Manor, I mean. Basso has a new life thanks to you."
     "I have no idea what you're referring to, Florence."
     Lightning flashed outside, and soon the rain was breaking harder on the cobbled streets outside, the droplets on the window now splotching angrily against the glass.
     "Don't call me that. You know I hate it. Just 'Flor' works." The woman cleared her throat quietly. "Look, I'll get to it. I need your help."
     Garrett didn't move. He was like a statue leaning on the wall, stoic and wordless.
     "I know that you know about me," she continued. "What I do. My line of work."
     "Flor. Don't."
     "Don't what?"
     "Whatever you're about to say," Garrett replied, "just don't."
     The woman frowned up at him. "Can you at least sit down and hear me out?"
     "I can't help, Flor. I'm sorry. It's a... bad time, and the less I know about you, the better. Trust me."
     "Come now." Flor did not avert her eyes from the man. "Don't act like Basso didn't tell you." She leaned forward. "You know that I'm a Fixer. You know that I was the one who set up almost all of Basso's jobs, and—"
     "Flor."
     "Garrett. Please." Her counter was firm, but her eyes betrayed just a hint of quelled desperation.
     The man sprang lightly off the wall with a push of his shoulder and plopped down on the edge of his bed. "I'm not trying to be a sod. My plate is just full right now. I have a lot going on. The less you know, the better."
     Flor's gaze seemed to wander off somewhere far away for a lengthy moment. "Full plate," she echoed absently. "Me too."
     "Maybe Basso can help with whatever it is."
     "I'm not draggin' my brother back into this cesspit. And besides - he can't help. Nobody else can." She sighed. "Trust me, Garrett. You're the only one capable."
     Garrett scratched at his stubbled jaw. He bowed his head for a moment, seemingly searching the floorboards for a reply, and brought his eyes back up to meet hers. "I'm not doing it for free. And that's if I take the job."
     Flor nodded. "Of course. Trust me, there's something in it for you. It'll fetch a pretty coin."
     "Ah. You've finally decided to finish what we started that night," Garrett said cheekily. "I like it."
     "I think not."
     "Come on. We had fun, didn't we?"
     The woman rolled her eyes. "That's not happening again. I don't get attached. Neither do you."
     "You can still have a good time and not get attached. Nothing happened that night, anyway. Just shared some wine, had some laughs."
     Flor sighed heavily. "Stop. This is serious."
     "Fine." Garrett shifted on his haunches just as thunder rumbled loudly in the distance, and he gestured for her to continue.
     "Arden Manor. You know it?" asked Flor.
     "You're kidding."
     "I kid not."
     Garrett exhaled louder than he needed to. "Listen to me. Whatever you've got your eye on... it's not worth it. Not the Arden place. No way."
     "Perhaps you'll let me explain before handing me a verdict."
     "Flor." Garrett's tone softened. "It's a bad idea."
     "You haven't even heard my idea."
     "I don't need to."
     Flor scoffed at him. "What? You're the infamous Master Thief, are you not? Basso said you can break in anywhere, that you can't get caught."
     "You know what the difference is between me and anyone else picking locks in this city? I don't get caught, because I'm quite aware that I can get caught."
     Flor cocked her head at him. "You literally carried my brother out of Cragscleft."
     "And?"
     "What do ya mean, 'And?' Nobody can claim that! If you could break someone out of that forsaken place without even being seen, then you can rob an estate."
     Garrett shook his head. "I'm careful, Flor. That's why I've never been locked up. That's why my head is still attached to my neck. Careful means not taking unnecessary risks and not doing anything stupid." If I can help it, he thought to himself.
     "Garrett—"
     "This is a bad idea," he repeated. "Lady Arden has some of the heaviest security in The City. It's not to be trifled with."
     "Garrett!" Flor fumed, shooting to her feet and still taking care to keep her voice low. "Will you just hear me out? You don't like it, I'll be on my way."
     He didn't answer. Garrett looked up at her disapprovingly, his eyes searing into hers. He was still shaking his head softly, which was irritating Flor. She reached for something in a pocket beneath her cloak, but she stayed her hand for a moment. "Just want to show you something, yeah?"
     He gave her a nod, and the woman produced a scroll, neatly rolled and bound by twine. "Give me just a few more minutes of your time to go over this with you," Flor said. "You know I wouldn't ask something of you unless it was important."
     Garrett folded his arms just as more muffled thunder grumbled from overhead. The rain grew heavier still, pelting the roof, the glass of his window, and the streets and rooftops outside mercilessly.
     Flor sat back down at Garrett's desk. One of his eyes seemed to be glowing slightly in the dark, like a green ember peering out from shadow. It was unnerving, and the woman stifled a shiver. It reminded her of those strange machine-beings that the Mechanists were so fond of deploying. "Like I said, there's something in it for you, too. I wouldn't come here without incentive for you."
     "Fine, but I'm not making any promises."