[PRP] More Wealth Than Taste {Harmon + Reese}

[LoveByLetters]

{note: this takes place prior to Harmon obtaining his grimalkin, Whsst}

Thrice already he has asked, Are you certain? and he knows better than to ask again, but his full lips are pressed together in a thin pink line of displeasure. It was he who asked Reese to come: he who obtained the information, he who sought the thief out, he who paid handsomely for this rather unusual favor. As keenly as he wants the grimalkin, a thin line of tension has straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back ever since they've left the dim and dirty tavern where they first met.

In dusty, faded grays, Harmon and his darker skin seem to fade into the shadows, his complimentary coloration making up somewhat for the measured elegance of his every step -- a dancer turned loose on the streets. If he is distinctly uncomfortable here, he is at least broad-shouldered and well-formed enough that few would be likely to assume he is either vulnerable or helpless. It doesn't seem to be the clothing or the company, or that they are headed somewhere to commit what nearly everyone would agree is a crime. They answer may come should they pause in a closer alleyway, or slide into a hallway, where his shoulders will relax and he will seem to be able to regain some measure of control over himself.

He does not like being outside.

But his gaze keeps straying to Reese, watching him for cues, and if the other man's grimalkin is anywhere in sight, he will watch the animal with admiration and barely disguised longing.

Their destination is a large manor home, owned by a wealthy merchant whose investments in certain luxury fabrics luckily preceded a fashion which made those fabrics particularly sought after. Having grown exceedingly rich, he has spent excessive coin obtaining that which is considered to be exotic or unusual -- servants of far-away races, exquisite porcelains, rare tapestries, and in a surprising move, a small menagerie of exotic animals. Some of these are kept in his garden, in little homes and cages which he has had built for them, around a central space which is designed to be used for garden parties, so that he can sufficiently impress his guests.  

[and be blue]

Reese is blunt, when it suits him; honest, when it suits him. It suits him and serves him to keep Harmon's expectations low, to promise nothing he can't deliver. Grimalkin are dangerous company, and like most felines, they choose their owners more than their owners choose them. Gwen in there, because she wants to be there, winding between Reese's feet now and then in a way that makes her an obstacle and keeps him on his toes.

If the familiar doesn't want Harmon, than no amount of kidnapping will make it his. And so he has said, three or four times, until he deemed it clear enough. Only then did he agree.

So. Now they stand here, Reese with his hands in his pockets as they approach the place. Not for the first time, at least. He's been here already, on his own; he knows servent schedules, as much as he can, and which exits would go less-questioned than others. He cannot know which windows are unlocked, but he has met the neighbors on one side.

They're out, tonight.

"...best if you serve as eyes, I think." Again, direct, blunt, he turns a look on Harmon. "Two makes more noise."  

[LoveByLetters]

Harmon does not seem to know whether to agree or disagree, and stands there for a moment taunt as a sitar string, twanging with the unfamiliar indecision. He opens and closes his fists, blinking slowly, and finally answers back, keeping his voice as low as he can without whispering.

"But will it know who it is that's come for it, if I'm not there?" He glances down towards Gwen, for Gwen is in Harmon's eyes -- whether it is wise or foolish -- part of the reason that Harmon hopes this plan will work. Though there is a great deal of speculation about the unusual cats, Harmon seems to verge on believing that they can .. somehow .. understand each other. That Gwen can convince the other grimalkin that it will be better off with Harmon.

"Needn't I come just in case?"  

[and be blue]

"I don't think it'll give two shakes of a rat's a** who came for it." Blunt, soft, straightforward. He shakes his head, eyes following Harmon's to Gwen -- and she, in turn, preens under it while feigning disinterest, stretching and yawning hugely to show off a mouth full of sharp teeth and her boredom with them at the same time. Reese smooths down the close fit of his cap.

"I am going to climb the neighbor, and then make my way to the window on the far side." He sketches the route: difficult. Even for an acrobat, it's difficult. For someone untried, potentially impossible. "Can you do that?"  

[LoveByLetters]

To do him some credit, Harmon does not even look up to visually trace the route as defined by Reese -- he doesn't need to. He snorts hardly before the other man has finished asking, with a firm shake of his head, knowing full well that such a feat of balance and upper-body strength is beyond him. "When I was a younger man, perhaps, but not now." He very nearly asks if Reese will be able to exit with the grimalkin by the same route .. then bites his tongue, reminding himself to trust to the thief's expertise. Crouching briefly to offer Gwen his fingertips, in the hope of giving her a scratch, he perhaps proves either his own courage or his own stupidity, having seen full well her mouth of sharp teeth. "I will wait, and whistle of danger should there be any; two short notes if you must take cover, one long note if you must run."

The words have the air of a quoted verse, as if this is something he saw in a play, or heard about in a tale, and is pleased to be able to use.  

[and be blue]

For now, Harmon is safe. Gwen arches into his hand, instead of away, butting her head into his fingers and then tipping her head to lick curiously at their tips. This will start out friendly, her eyes narrowed in pleasure, but if he lingers too long...well. He may just lose a couple joints.

Reese doesn't warn him. He is too focused on the house.

"That would be ideal." In truth, he sounds relieved: better than dragging the man along behind him. He turns to look back to Harmon as Gwen's tail begins to twitch, the first sign of danger, and still Reese doesn't warn. People learned better the hard way.

"Whistle and then run." He takes two steps toward the neighbor as he says it, and Gwen finally decides she's had enough, and moves to sink teeth into Harmon's flesh.  

[LoveByLetters]

"I will be fleet as the shad -- .. ows." The jump in his words is not deliberate, but is thanks to the grimalkin's sharp teeth sinking into the fleshy heel of his hand. Other than a twitch he does not try to jerk his hand back, being rather uninterested in having her teeth torn through his flesh. He does not seem particularly aware that a reaction lacking any sort of flailing, screaming, or cursing is unusual: he merely crouches in place, giving the feline a reproachful look as if Gwen has done something shockingly rude. If it occurs to him that such tactics work better with women than with cats, that awareness will not immediately dawn. He merely grits his teeth and waits.  

[and be blue]

Reese gets to play the knight in shining armor -- not a role he fills often, especially not dressed in these shades of deep grey, with his hair tucked away and his face dark and serious. Even now, he doesn't do it well. His method of salvation is a hiss between his teeth and a sharp gesture, like he's going to smack Gwen sharply on the top of her head, except she lets go and drops out of reach [her own eyes huge and dangerous] before it can ever collide.

It barely even slows his stride. He doesn't comment that Harmon will be smarter next time, nor scold the beast. It is as it is.

"I'm going up, then, and she'll likely follow." He doesn't even wait for a reply, doesn't check to see how bloodied Harmon's hand is. Instead he eases away to start his ascent.  

[LoveByLetters]

Harmon would be startled, even offended, if the thief had expressed concern -- after all, isn't he a grown man? He can deal with his own pain, and after all he was the one who touched the grimalkin in the first place. Harmon simply rises to his feet, rubbing the wound and pressing his sleeve reluctantly against it to staunch the bleeding.

It will be quiet up on the wall .. though less so in the garden. The back of the garden is given over to large, elaborate cages with wild creatures inside, any of whom might sleep more lightly than the average human. Should he prove capable of avoiding those, the only real danger is a small fluffy dog (the size and general shape of a manicured mop, if a slightly more attractive golden color) that roams the garden. It appears to have gotten out, and is now investigating a particularly interesting clump of bushes, chewing enthusiastically on a low-hanging branch with an occasional elderly wheeze.

From a second-floor window, in what seems to be a parlor, a feline shape is watching the progress of the dog with considerable interest. The cat appears to be wearing a large silk bow around its throat, though from the tattered state of the silk ribbon it is not overly enamored of this ornament to its person. It is watching the dog with narrowed eyes and undisguised loathing, as if plotting the other creature's gory demise.  

[and be blue]

Reese knows Gwen well; she does follow him up, graceful enough to make him look awkward as he climbs, waiting for him perched atop the wall, the tip of her tail thrashing as she looks down at the beast as well. Once he joins her, the pair of them will survey, and study the dog with perhaps the exact same thought in their eyes:

Would the client be angry if we offed the beast?

Someone certainly would. It is a show dog, more expensive than it should have been, was probably a favored pet. On the other hand, it looks worn out, its life of sweet pastries and table scraps luxurious but not exactly ideal for extending the creature's life. Reese's eyes twitch back to Gwen, and she settles all at once, fur going down.

Below, Harmon's eyes will be drawn away by some sound, a flutter of wings perhaps, a call in the alley, and when he looks back, it'll be nearly impossible to pick out the duo against the shadows, that edge of magic making Reese and the cat at his heels halfway invisible. They work their way across the top of the roof, considering the little dog, the house beside them, the bushes and the greenery.

There is only one tree near, and he fears it will not support his weight. This makes getting back out again a problem. He will have to go through the attached house. So he disappears entirely into that window.  

[LoveByLetters]

Whether or not his client would care -- will he ever know if the dog is killed? He probably won't hear anything on the other side of the wall, and even if the family makes it public what's happened, it'll be too late by then. Harmon watches as long as he can before a soft sound pulls his attention briefly away, and when he turns back it seems to him that Reese and Gwen have vanished. For a moment he stands in perfect stillness, drawing in a sharp breath .. and then he turns away to watch the entrance to the alleyway, as is his duty until the thief's task is complete.

In the garden, the dog huffs and wheezes to itself, though its rheumy eyes make it difficult for the dog to tell whether or not it has seen something after all. After a moment it goes back to chewing on the bush again.

Inside the house, the feline has retreated to the top of a bookshelf, backing away from the unknown intruder: up close it is most certainly the grimalkin that he has been sent here to retrieve. It is a handsome animal, a reddish brown going to creams at the front, with stripes on its thick, puffy tail. It stares down at him with its ears laid back ..but Gwen's appearance will cause it to lean forward with a look of intense interest. One can almost see the thoughts slowly moving through the little creature's head: oooh, a lady! He immediately licks one paw clean, then miaows softly as if to call to her.  

[and be blue]

The relative desertion of the place leaves Reese surprised -- makes him almost feel dumb for slow, cautious steps, for the 'look somewhere else' aura that hovers around him like a cloud. Only almost, though. Experience has left him willing to look a fool when no one's looking, so he can avoid it in the rare instance someone is. So he creeps, only the grimalkin's sharp eyes piercing the magic, until he is sure there is no one else around.

For her part, Gwen enters the room and stretches, absently, as if she owns the place -- back arched and tail twitching, completely ignoring her potential suitor, as they were wont to do. Let the human take a step in, slow, his fingers extended toward the beast in a testing manner. Reese is familiar with this kind of creature, and so he is just cautious enough without showing fear...  

[LoveByLetters]

Once the fingers get close enough to his face, the brown grimalkin gives them a cursory sniff and then -- in a surprising show of fearlessness -- licks them distractedly, the greater share of his attention upon the far more interesting intruder: Gwen. Just as he begins to ease off the bookshelf, his eyes on the female grimalkin, there is a thump and a bump from the hall. In the parlor Reese will hear the soft murmur of two voices, one male and one female, a shuffle of cloth .. and then a more rhythmic thumping soon follows. At first blush it is hard to tell whether the indecent, secretive act is taking place in the room next door or the hallway just outside, which would make it extremely difficult for the thief to proceed in that direction.

The first thump startles the brown grimalkin, who flattens his ears and freezes; when the sound does not further intrude into the parlor his ears rise up again and in a few short moments he is on the floor, sniffing in Gwen's direction without daring to approach her. He makes a soft trilling noise, as if to coax her into allowing him to come closer. Clearly he, too, is familiar with the whims and ways of his own kind, and wary of being greeted with claws or teeth.  

[and be blue]

Gwen has the power, and she holds onto it; twitching her ears briefly toward the sound and exerting some thoughtless ability that makes herself and Reese dimmer yet, that will hopefully keep them muffled, distant. The other grimalkin doesn't even get a glance: instead she settles at Reese's feet and begins to groom one of her paws. The human can deal with it.

And he does -- studying his prize in a thoughtful way and rooting around in the small bag at his hip. He has a burlap sack, but he knows Gwen well enough to realize that this is a poor decision. The wailing and growling and hissing and spitting through the material would set off any guards, or perhaps even the duo dallying in the hallway. Instead he roots out several pieces of dried-up jerky and sinks to a crouch to offer them to the grimalkin, his voice a low rumble.

"If you come with me, there's more." He doesn't expect understanding of the words, but the tone is coaxing. Combined with the meat, perhaps it will be enough.  

[LoveByLetters]

Though he seems sorely disappointed at the lady's lack of interest, the brown grimalkin allows himself to be soothed by the presence of the treat that Reese holds out to him. His ears twitch forward, his whiskers wiggle, and he rubs his cheek against the thief's leg before snuffling the meat and trying to pick up the largest piece. There is no wild-eyed wariness to him, such as Gwen sometimes wears, that bare edge of the untameable that often suggests any silence may only be the calm before a deep, satisfying bite -- but it could just be that he's caught the little fellow in a good mood. He does at least seem disposed to come closer, and to follow his nose to more jerky, especially if Gwen doesn't protest him snuffling Reese. To the brown grimalkin, the thief not only represents the meat that he's offering, but he smells of Gwen -- and oh, how interesting he finds that! He will rub and sniff and step closer to, keeping an eye out should Gwen decide to defend this living piece of her 'territory.'

On the other side of the wall -- and if he listens it seems to be the room next door, not the hall -- the bumping and thumping and rough-housing continues. It's actually a good sign, provided he can avoid detection by the couple; their presence means they don't expect anyone else to come this way and catch them in the act.