Amongst Thieves

CHAPTER SIXTEEN- Thief

'Don't trust you hooded types,' the tavern-keeper said vacantly as the man took his regular spot at the bar. 'For all I know you could be a different lad from every other day, couldn't ya?'

The man remained silent as he pushed a coin across the polished wood.

'Right you are! The money says you're the same and that's good enough for me,' the barkeep laughed as he took the coin and replaced it with a small wooden cup. The man ignored him, liquor still burning at his throat as he pushed a second coin across the counter.

The barkeep returned to his work, a new cup already waiting for the next coin. The man was a mystery, appearing regularly for almost three years and always at the same spot for the same drink in the same clothes. He was short and lean, to the point that the bartender had thought him a child at first, though he served him all the same. The hood, black top and loose trousers made it clear her was a thief, which were a rare enough sight but odder still his right sleeve was missing, revealing three neat rows of old scars running down his arm. The sleeveless style caught on in midtown soon enough as word of a new, unparalleled thief spread through the city but the scars were as unique as they were mystifying. Several coins later the thief stood, steady despite the pile of cups at his side. As always the bartender stooped in a blatant attempt to see beneath the cowl and as always he failed, in no small part because he was more than a full head taller than the hooded man. It didn't matter, he would be back the next day when they could go through the same motions all over again.

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Callen wove through the thinning crowd, picking pockets out of habit instead of any actual need. By the time he pushed into the night he had made back at least half of what he had arrived with, unnoticed despite the spirit rushing through his veins. The cold bit past his loose pants as he turned down the narrow ally that bordered the tavern, checking he was alone before scaling the wall and pulling himself onto the roof. He relished the feeling of the wind through his hair as he pulled off the hood, stowing it as he always did and replacing it with a dark cloth mask fitted from nose to throat. Feeling more himself once the mask was in place he dropped silently from the roof and made his way back to his usual den.

'You know that thing looks ridiculous, don't you Lohan,' a familiar voice called as he cleared the dark stairs. The room was large, set up like any other tavern though the liquor was wildly expensive and all the patrons wore some variation of black tops and trousers.

'With you constantly reminding me, how could I forget? But as I have been telling you for years, hoods are stupid,' he called back, ignoring the dirty looks from the many patrons with hoods resting against their backs. 'They stand out, fall off and anyone shorter than you can see your face well enough anyway.'

'Shorter than you?'

Callen glared at the man.

'Fine, fine but in a hood I could at least understand more than half of what comes out of your mouth. You might make a stronger argument that way.'

Callen shrugged silently.

'Anyway, you've got a job.'

'When's the meeting?'

'Already over. You were of poisoning yourself so I took the liberty. Details in your room, though I should mention that protection is already waiting for you. Apparently he hired someone else and they made a mess of it so he was forced to come to you.'

He let out a heavy sigh. 'This would be far easier if they would just come to me in the first place.'

'At what you cost? Good luck.'