[The security is extra vigilant for a reason, so vigilant that a man without an invite needs to find a way inside that isn’t the main door. For Thomas Durand, however, this is an old and simple talent of his, and with a bit of distraction and the art of easing himself into a crowd, he doesn’t even have to rely on slipping in through a window or a rooftop skylight. Easy as pie.
That part, at least. The rest will be tricky.
The auction itself hasn’t started yet, but the party is in full swing. Thomas’ power thrums beneath his skin, as it often does, unable as he is to let it go when he needs the clarity, the focus it provides him, critical for a job like this one. It’s a simple smash-and-grab (hopefully less smashing and just more grabbing), but he needs to be on his guard. The Jars, as he’s patronizingly begun to call their little group, have a history with the organization running the auction. Mainly, that they’ve stolen from them before on contract; just doing their usual business, of course, but it’s not like any of them would be ever welcome in their circles again because of it. Maybe one or two people died. It was probably fine.
This time, he’s not here for a contract, per se. But the approach would be the same, regardless.
The main crowd won’t recognize him, though. It’s the security, and those running the show, he needs to stay clear of. He exhales through his nose, straightens the tie of his suit. Right now, he needs to focus on scoping out the situation, though finding a way “backstage” would be ideal for now.
He scans the room. And he finds—
A familiar face. What is she doing here? Contrary to popular belief, Thomas very much remembers their meeting, though he remembers it in the way you recall a distant dream. And here? Here, she might be a distraction, and he needs to remain focused, doesn’t need to draw undue attention.
And yet.
A few moments later, and he approaches her (and her companion, it would seem?) from behind, piping up when he’s close enough.]
no subject
That part, at least. The rest will be tricky.
The auction itself hasn’t started yet, but the party is in full swing. Thomas’ power thrums beneath his skin, as it often does, unable as he is to let it go when he needs the clarity, the focus it provides him, critical for a job like this one. It’s a simple smash-and-grab (hopefully less smashing and just more grabbing), but he needs to be on his guard. The Jars, as he’s patronizingly begun to call their little group, have a history with the organization running the auction. Mainly, that they’ve stolen from them before on contract; just doing their usual business, of course, but it’s not like any of them would be ever welcome in their circles again because of it. Maybe one or two people died. It was probably fine.
This time, he’s not here for a contract, per se. But the approach would be the same, regardless.
The main crowd won’t recognize him, though. It’s the security, and those running the show, he needs to stay clear of. He exhales through his nose, straightens the tie of his suit. Right now, he needs to focus on scoping out the situation, though finding a way “backstage” would be ideal for now.
He scans the room. And he finds—
A familiar face. What is she doing here? Contrary to popular belief, Thomas very much remembers their meeting, though he remembers it in the way you recall a distant dream. And here? Here, she might be a distraction, and he needs to remain focused, doesn’t need to draw undue attention.
And yet.
A few moments later, and he approaches her (and her companion, it would seem?) from behind, piping up when he’s close enough.]
...Now here is a familiar sight, no?