Leuca strolled casually into the First Inter-Realm Bank of Rhy'Din. The plump elf had pulled her hair up into a broad bun that dominated the back of her head, with shorter wisps pinned away from her face. Her glasses perched elegantly on the tip of her tanned nose, and she wore an easy smile on her ruddy lips. Her purple tunic and chocolate brown skirt hugged her curvaceous frame and seemed out of place with the simple briefcase she held in front of her.

One of the tellers took notice of her and waved her to the window, returning the smile amicably. "Hello, can I help you, miss?"

"Actually," she replied, "my name is Leuca Fane. I represent the Halatir Trading Company. Truth be told, I'm the inter-racial representative. We deal in Elvish goods from up in Halatir. Perhaps you've heard of us?" At the woman's blank expression, Leuca pressed on. "Well, we're expanding into the Rhy'Din area. Hence..." Trailing off, she made a rather animate gesture to indicate her presence in the city. "So anyway, we're going to need a bank in the area to handle our finances, and I was wondering if I could have a tour of your facilities. I've been instructed to assess the security measures employed by each bank in Rhy'Din before we make a decision."

"Oh! Uhm... one moment. Let me go get the manager..."

Leuca tucked a stray wisp of hair behind a sharply pointed ear and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she waited. Her palms were sweating, though she was careful not to wipe them on her skirt. She couldn't let them see the tension that didn't so much as touch her face. After a short time, the woman reappeared with a balding, portly man in tow. "This is Mister Gregory Harris," the young teller informed her. "He'll meet with you in his office." The pair stepped into the little room, and Leuca repeated her story with just enough suggestive flirtation to tinge his face red.

"And so, Mister Harris-"

"You can call me Greg, Miss Fane."

"Leuca, then, Greg," she replied with a grin. "I really do need an overview of the security measures you employ here at the First Inter-Realm Bank. Honestly, I'm certain you do a fine job keeping everything safe, but I've been instructed to be thorough. You understand?"

"Of course, Miss F-... Leuca..." He returned her grin. "In fact, I'll conduct the tour personally. Is now fine?"

"Now would be perfect, Greg."

Everything was falling into place.

Avasa hadn't spent the past three months in Rhy'Din idle, though none of her jobs had met with any notoriety. Truth be told, though, that was out of necessity. Rhy'Din was like no other city she had ever visited. The sheer amount of security that was available to the general populace was, at first, daunting. But then, she never backed away from a good challenge. Her heist of Kwerejacek's had offered her brief celebrity in the underworld, and she used that (as well as some of her other "attributes") to her advantage. She had... charmed a young fellow into showing her the ropes of these "modern" countermeasures she was encountering.

Throughout the tour, Leuca's eyes took in everything, lingering on sensors and security cameras, mapping everything out like a mental blueprint. She examined angles, taking note of any blind spot. She was kept in a separate room as the vault was opened, and Greg showed her around inside. He pointed out the additional locks on the safe-deposit boxes, which required two keys to open (one held by the bank, the other by the box's owner). The second vault door leading to the money had already been opened, though he wouldn't let her inside. Greg pointed out the pressure sensitive floors and the heat sensors that were inside, as well as the multitude of cameras, all held behind a state-of-the-art computerized lock. Her eyes strayed to the control panel.

Clear as day, she could see the numbers of the code, even if she had no idea the order they should go in. Five of the keys stood out as notably warm to her elven sight.

Greg then showed her the security room, which had its own unique security. It too was equipped with cameras and heat sensors. A person had one minute to disable the security within the room before the heat sensors raised an alarm, ample time for someone who knew the numbers to punch them in, but not nearly enough for someone to guess the pass code. Her eyes lingered on the second security panel, filing away the numbers that lit up before her eyes. She smiled to Greg as they parted ways, telling him she was returning to Halatir within a couple of days, but that she hoped to see him again on her return to Rhy'Din several months later.

For a moment as she turned to leave the bank, her smile fell. There was no way she alone could overcome that security. Even if she knew the numbers to the code, it was impossible to punch in every combination over the course of a minute, not to mention she had no proof that a number wasn't used more than once. Then a sudden thought struck her, and a decidedly cunning grin curved her lips.

Avasa knew exactly who to ask for help.

He pressed the edge of the baton against his chest and pushed it lightly into his rib cage, retracting the telescoping shaft of his baton. He placed the weapon back in its holster. "I suppose I should be rather impressed with your skills. Breaking into the room of an ex-napper is no mean feat. Mind if I ask you a question?" He moved over to his closet, throwing the door open to look at the wide array of dress shirts, trousers, and ties hanging in there. He glanced back at her, now and then, as he studied his clothing.

She shrugged at that, tugging off her mask and pulling down her black hood, though her hair was no lighter in the darkness. "You can ask whatever you want, Melamin**." She positively beamed as the elvish word rolled sarcastically off her tongue. "But I don't make any promises I'll answer."

He tugged the hood off of his head first, putting it on a shelf above the hangers in his closet. He folded a pair of black dress trousers across his arm, grabbing a solid eggplant dress shirt as well. Because he had been wearing a hood, he had done little with his hair that evening; it was messy, but not deliberately, and there was a slight cowlick on top. His usually silver snowflake earrings were also not in his ears. "Well, since you are telling me I should invest in better locks...why don't you explain to me how you got past the ward I placed on this room. By all rights, you should be an icicle now."

She shrugged, though her smile was rather reminiscent of the cat who had caught the canary. "That little ward of yours was obviously keyed to that umbrella that's always outside your door. Clever, by the way, picking such a mundane object to key the spell to. Disabling the ward was much less... difficult than I expected, though. I don't suppose I have to go through the method for you?"

He sighed, as he started to make his way from the closet to his bathroom. "No. That will not be necessary. I suppose I should have been paying more attention to that lesson in Uni." He stepped into the bathroom, closing the door halfway, so that he was hidden from view but could still talk. He removed the sling first, placing it on the counter near the sink, before he slipped out of his robe. Bracing against the door, he leaned his head out. "Let's get to brass. What did you come here to discuss?"

"Oh, don't be too hard on yourself. I don't think I would have figured it out if it hadn't of rained yesterday..." Valie leaned back on his bed, relaxed as you please in the frosty environment of his room, and arched up into a stretch. "Not much of a discussion, actually. More like... a proposition." She rolled over to face him, her face smoothed quite serious. "The question of the hour being... Are you still intent on being out of the game?"

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the faucet running, though Locke had completely closed the bathroom door before that. After a couple of minutes, the ice elf finally stepped out, clad in his finest (though without belt, tie, socks, or shoes). Still, the dress pants and dress shirt seemed to fit him perfectly, snugly, accentuating the gymnast's build he had worked so hard to develop. He couldn't help but do a little catwalk strut and pivot as he walked out, before turning his head over his shoulder, running his left hand over his now spiked-up hair, and winking mischievously at Valie. After that gesture, though, he turned around fully to address her, his features full of innocence. "What game are you speaking of, mate?" He reached up to bat at one of his silver snowflake earrings playfully.

She smirked at his strut, though it wasn't certain if she was showing appreciation for his catwalk or if she was mocking it. "Either your mind isn't quite the steel trap you claim it to be, or you're putting me on." She pushed herself back up into a seated position on his frigid bed, giving little indication that the cold bothered her. However, a trained eye could note goosebumps that followed down her neck and disappeared beneath the dark, supple leather that molded to her like a second, considerably thicker skin. "But if you'd rather play dumb, I can go along with it and spell everything out for you. In simple terms so you'll be sure to understand." Her head tilted as she smiled too prettily up at him. "I'm planning something a bit on the... peccant side of things, I s'pose. But, unfortunately for me, I can't quite carry it out alone. Rather, it requires the particular touch of a particularly icy fellow. That's where you come in. If you're interested. After all, the last time we spoke, you said you were out of this game." She sighed a little and looked up toward the ceiling. "But it would be a right shame."

In the dimness, it was hard to tell whether the gleam of his eyes was from his low-light vision, or the glint of greed. "I find it hard to believe that there is a task out there that requires my personal skill set. All I know how to do is sharp cards, ruck, and dress smashingly. Whatever would you need a cold-hearted elf for?" He fluttered his icy lashes to her as best he could, trying his very best to look angelic and sweet. Was Locke playing dumb, or fishing for clues?

Wednesday night, May 21st - Thursday morning, May 22nd, 2008 - Midnight (or there abouts)

The evening was cool, but not quite cool enough for the intrepid ice elf. Locke had slinked his way out of the Red Dragon Inn during the early evening, when there were few patrons present (the kind of patrons who were too deep in their cups to pay any attention to exits or entrances, anyways), and headed for a nearby rooftop, to lay low until darkness fell. Once night had arrived, he started to make his move slowly, carefully, across the city. He headed west through the alleyways where he could, taking to the rooftops where alleyways were less prevalent. He headed through the Marketplace deliberately, turning south as soon as he spotted the bridge that would take him closer to the WestEnd. This was tricky, but by hanging onto the side of the bridge and slowly shimmying across, he was able to ensure that no one would spot him crossing. From there, it was simple enough to take the backways and deserted streets to the wall that divided the Old Temple District from the WestEnd. Not wanting to go past any guard stations, he pulled his trusty grappling hook and length of rope from the small backpack on his back. With a twirl and a silent prayer, he sent the metal arcing toward the top of the wall. With a *thunk* that he hoped wasn't too loud, the hook caught in the stone, and he was soon pulling himself up and over the wall. Once on top, he quickly set the metal prongs into a portion of the wall where he would have enough support to be able to climb down, but still remove the hook later. He clambored down swiftly and yanked the grappling hook free. Once done with that, Locke bundled the rope back into his backpack and made his way southwards once more, in the filthier alleys of the WestEnd.

He took a quick turn west, and arrived on the street he was looking for. He was quickly able to determine the building he was supposed to meet Valie at, and circled around the back to where the fire escape would be. 157 S. Abernathy was a brownstone brick tenament, a rowhouse in a line of many others on the block on the street. Like most of the other buildings on the block, its windows had been boarded up, although the city hadn't quite gotten around to putting up "CONDEMNED" signs on this building yet. The fire escape had been pulled up, so Locke was forced to take the hard way up. Slowly, he climbed up the side of the building, using the window ledges as his support to take him from story to story. It was slow work, and by the time he had gotten to the roof and flung his body onto the brick surface up there, he was panting, sweating, and exhausted. Still, his work wasn't done. Ignoring the burning sensation in his still healing shoulder, he pulled himself to his feet, to search for the trap door. To the naked (human) eye, all the bricks on the roof would look the same, but to the frost elf's low- light vision? One of them stood out as being a darker red than the others. He touched that one and immediately noted that it was loose. He pulled on a couple nearby that one, but they were stuck tight. This must be the trap door! He removed the brick carefully, revealing a handle. He pulled the handle, and several of the bricks revealed themselves to be, in fact, not brick, but painted over to look like bricks. He stepped down the ladder near the entrance, and tried to see if he could spot anybody in the darkness. Just as he stepped inside, the bells of Perp Miz started bonging ominously in the distance. Must be midnight...just in time.

The room appeared to be uninhabited. Valie, clad in her dark leathers and with a hood pulled far over her masked face, blended in quite completely with the shadowy interior. Not so much as a creak of leather or an audible breath betrayed her. A minute passed in silence before she was satisfied that he was indeed alone, though as a precaution, she instructed him softly, in a voice that barely carried to him, "Close the door." That would plunge the rook in complete darkness, but perhaps that was the point. "Take the padlock that is laying on the right-hand side of the top step. Latch the door, then lock it."

The wardrobe of choice for Locke this evening? It wasn't quite a cat-suit, but it was certainly all-black, and it clung to his frame quite nicely, accentuating the lightly muscular build he had built through years of exercise and other...extracurricular activities. He had his baton holstered on his hip once more, and a small black backpack on his back. He nodded to Valie, as the bells of Perp Miz finally finished chiming. Fourteen times, of course. "When did they ever count the right time?" Locke muttered to himself, as he went to retrieve the padlock. He climbed back up the ladder, reaching up to latch the door in place, then snapped the lock on. After that, he climbed back down and sat on the floor. He wasn't going to bother trying to hide the fact that the trip there had taken a lot out of him. He breathed in deeply, and exhaled slowly.

As soon as she heard the lock snick shut, a simple hurricane lantern was coaxed to light. It wasn't very bright at all and only dimly offered a view of the spartan surroundings. There was no alternate point of entry except perhaps a thin vent in the floor. The room itself was smaller than an attic of the building should be and looked like it had been quartered off stealthily from the rest of the attic to which the residents of 157 S. Abernathy were allowed access. If the safe house had once been furnished, it had since been picked clean in its disuse. The floor was covered with a layer of only recently-disturbed dust, at least by humanoid feet. Scuttling tracks from rats and other vermin cut their ways across the ground. Valie herself didn't sit, but she placed the lantern by her feet before reaching up to push back her mask. The angle of the light made her features stand out more sharply, and the grin she smiled at him with her dark lips seemed much more conniving than perhaps it otherwise would have. "So, you came. Have a little change of heart, did we?"

She laughed aloud, albeit quietly. "Do tell me whatever happened to that steel trap of yours. How many times do I have to say I don't want your icy heart before it sinks in, Melar**? Your cold heart does me no good. Not one bit of good." A slow smirk painted her features. "I may know the security, but it doesn't mean I can surpass it all. Otherwise, I wouldn't... need... you." The word came almost unwillingly from her lips, but she shrugged lightly and carried on. "The security room is equipped with a thermal sensor that triggers an alarm within one minute. Clearly, that's a bit of a problem for me, due to the fact that I emit body heat like a normal person." She took another step toward Locke. "You, on the other hand, do quite the opposite."

He muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then looked up at her, grinning his dimpled grin. "Who said I wanted to give you my frigid heart, Arwenamin***? You know as well as I do that my heart is not my own any longer." The grin shifted to something impish, with his next words. " 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much.' Anyways, mate, I see your point. I am parky, you are warm, and you need me to be my chilly self in there. Is that about square?"

Her smile was sardonically amused. "Maybe I wouldn't need to keep protesting if you didn't keep assuming that's what I wanted. 'Oh, the thief wishes to steal my frigid heart!'" She clasped her hand over her own, head tilted up in a mockery of a dreamy, love-struck expression. "For one who claims to be taken, you certainly seem to suppose that awfully often. But then I can hardly blame you for wishing I was. After all... well..." Her arms lifted up, lightly out to either side. She just beamed as she hugged her chest. "Oh, I just knew you cared, Lockey! The way you brandished that baton at me was positively rife with ardor."

He shrugged his shoulders, deliberately blase' with his next words. "What can I say, mate? I have to be careful who I speak to, what I say, and what I do. Many a bird has told me they find me...irresistible. If I didn't guard my heart from those who I thought wished to nim it, my chest would be empty and hollow. That is not a fate I wish to befall me. My apologies if I assumed incorrectly that you were after my own. Forgive me, it's just...I know how fit and fetching I can be." With that, he winked at her.

"Oh yes, so very much. Why, I simply can't control myself. No longer can I resist throwing myself at you. Take me, you frosty hunk of ice elf, take me." Her voice betrayed neither sarcasm or melodrama, but instead that was spoken in complete deadpan. As she finished, she arched a brow at him, hands once more planted on her hips as she looked down at him. "Oh, goodness, I just don't know what came over me," she added after a moment and with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckled, wagging his finger at her playfully. He switched to elvish, then, the light and lyric accent that touched his words in Common now fully infused into his speech. "Maa, uuma tyava****." Another wink and dimpled grin, before his face became blank once more. "Seriously, mate. Let's get down to brass. What do you need me to do?"

"Forget so soon? I must be clouding your thoughts." She smirked down at Locke before gesturing at him casually. "All I need you to do is very simply be your frosty self as you break into the security room. Body heat sets off the sensors, and since you haven't got any, you should have ample time to figure out the code from the digits I was able to procure." Valie grinned at that, not at all subtle about her pride in her own resourcefulness. "So you type in the code, we set about disabling the security in the room. Scramble the surveillance tapes or steal them. After the alarms are down, we break into the vault and make out with as much loot as we can carry." Shrugging a shoulder, she stole another one of his words and spoke it with amusement. "Savvy?"

"Savvy. You make it sound so easy-peasy, though, like it's just another evening constitutional in the park." He was hesitant to confess it, but, well, what could it hurt? "You know, I've never bit a fish before. Are you sure it's as simple as all that, and Bob's your uncle? How much dosh you supposing they have in there? How we gonna clean our shrapnel?" Almost subconsciously, the old Cockney accent he occasionally affected reared its head there, as it was wont to do when discussing dirty deeds.

Friday - May 23, 2008 - Evening

It was just a quick hop, skip, and a jump from rooftop to rooftop that took Locke from his room at the Red Dragon Inn to the alleyway behind the RhyDin Chamber of Commerce, in the eastern part of the Marketplace District. Right as the bells of Perp Miz started echoing faintly in the distance, Locke hopped down a rickety old fire escape of a nearby building to reveal himself...hopefully to his partner-in-crime. He was dressed in his thieving clothes: all-black, form-fitting yet breathable cotton pants, long-sleeved shirt, and a ski mask that covered the entirety of his head. The boots he wore were ankle-high and black as well, the soles barely making a sound as they fell on the stones of the alley.

Locke was made to wait a minute or two. Valie had no assurances that it was him behind the mask; however, she had little choice but to approach. Her attire mimicked his in traditional up-to-no-good fashion: dark, form-fitting attire that left very little of her figure to the imagination, a hood that hid her neck and hair from sight, and a featureless, white face mask with thin pieces of black fabric over the eyes to obscure any identifying trait. Her mask was the first visible thing out of the dusky shadows, silent steps giving the illusion that it was floating toward him. Valie stopped a few feet away from him, questioning lightly, "Beinion?"

At first, he didn't respond. While it was decidedly dark in that back alley, Valie's infrared vision was able to pick up the colder, man-shaped figure standing in the alley rather easily. He chuckled lightly after a while, responding to her question with a rhetorical one of his own. "Valie, I presume?" Locke lightly tapped the baton holster on his right hip, then adjusted the straps on the backpack he was wearing. Another strap was draped over his left shoulder, the duffel bag attached to it hanging close to his body.

She glanced up to the rapidly darkening sky without answer. Her footfalls made no din as she circled around him. "Let's go." Her voice was muffled behind the mask, and the way her lips didn't move with her words was a bit unsettling. And while he had no way of seeing her mischievous smirk or her wink in his direction, barely audible, light laughter traveled to his ears as she disappeared once more into the darkness, slipping off toward their mark...

Beneath his own mask, his eyes glowed a little, as they tracked Valie's path out of the alley and towards their target. The east Marketplace branch of the First Inter-Realm Bank of RhyDin was located in a fairly well-to-do neighborhood. It was the tallest building in the area, but not by much, as other offices and commercial buildings had been built skyward by various business interests. Locke didn't recognize any of the names on the front doors, when they were present. He had never been too familiar with this part of the Marketplace district, both as a young thief and as an older tailor, and he had also been out of the city for several years prior to this. He assumed the buildings were full of law firms, investment companies, and the RhyDin headquarters of various business outfits. The building that had their interest for evening was a good twenty stories high or so, the old white marble stained closer to a brownish hue by age and pollution. The front of the building had large glass doors and an awning, while the upper floors on all sides had full plate windows and small ledges jutting out.

Valie moved quickly for the brief moment she was out in the open, lingering near dark buildings so that her movements were all the more difficult to spot. She made not a sound even as she dashed across the street and dipped into the alley beside the bank. For an instant, one could have caught a glimpse of her in the quickly fading twilight, though their observances would have yielded them little information. Her attire was likely leather, and she had a belt of pouches around her waist. A length of rope was seen coiled at her hip, and something dangled opposite it. The strap of a black duffel bag slashed across her chest, the bag limp and empty behind her.

Locke knelt in the alley beside the bank, slipping off his backpack briefly and opening it quietly. He pulled out a length of rope, with a grappling hook attached to the end. As carefully as he could, he swung it up towards one of the higher ledges of the bank, hearing the satisfying clunk of metal on marble. He tugged at the rope briefly, ensuring that it was securely snared onto the marble, before he looked over at Valie.

The adrenaline rush was starting to kick in, giving Locke his second wind after the exhausting climb up the side of the building. Still, he paced himself carefully as they went down the concrete fire stairs, stopping behind her when she opened the fire door into the lobby and studied the glass door leading into the bank itself. "Indeed?"

"Laser trips." She pulled open the door, but she didn't dare step inside. Of course, the bank looked empty and almost benign, but she knew better. Valie reached into a pouch on her belt, pulling out a spritzer of some sort. Her voice was quiet as she spoke again, and her mask made her words a bit unclear. "Cameras." She pointed them out with a finger. "Obviously, masks stay on. Speak quietly and only when necessary." Then she spritzed the air. Lasers filtered through the fine mist, lighting up before their sight. "Need me to come with you, lover, or can you make it all the way to the control room yourself?" She was being very careful to forego names and any elvish so that investigators would have little to go on, should the cameras record audio as well as visual.

"I think I can manage," Locke replied, in the most monotone, flat voice he could conjure up. After Valie's words about the cameras possibly recording their voices, he figured that tamping down his accent and his usual Britishisms was a good idea. He took a look out into the lobby, at the black marble floors, red lasers criss-crossing the pathway to the control room. Otherwise, the lobby seemed relatively empty. There was no furniture, and a lone wooden piece of furniture that, Locke surmised, probably held the deposit and withdrawal slips for various accounts. He could also see the teller windows, empty and useless at this hour, with the "CLOSED" signs placed in front of them. Kneeling slightly, he let the duffel bag slide off of his shoulder, with only the slightest whisper of fabric rustling to signal that it had touched the cool tiles.

"I have the digits, but not the order or the number of times each is used. At least not clearly. Zero, one, four, and seven. The zero key appeared a little worn, and brighter... So my gut tells me there are probably two zeros in the code." That, she whispered to Locke. "Do you know how to shut down a laser grid?" Valie sounded amused as she offered him her spritzer, just in case he didn't have one of his own.

"Two. Got it. How many chances will I get to guess the code?" He looked at the spritzer, then back out at the lasers, shaking his head. "This is a new one for me."

She pulled the spritzer back. His hesitance made her reluctant to put her faith in him. "You get as many as it takes. I've told you that the time limit is imposed by a thermographic sensor. That shouldn't be a problem. You have the proper countermeasures." Her words were purposefully a bit cryptic to protect his identity. She slipped a strap off her shoulder, over her head, and let the bag fall to the floor. It would only get in the way. "I might as well cross now then, if you can't disable the grid. Walk this way." He couldn't see her grin beneath the mask, but it did color her words. Spritz, spritz, spritz. Lasers lit up before them in the mist. She reached between them to spray the liquid a bit further ahead, then dropped down into a squat so she could ease herself between the first set of lasers.

He watched her light up the lasers in their path with the spraying, resisting the urge to whistle under his breath. His movements, while still lithe and agile, were a bit more muscular than hers, owing to the slightly larger frame of his body. Still, he was able to bend his way through the first group of glowing red beams with ease.

And that was how they proceeded across the room. She moved through the beams with the grace and skill of a dancer, twisting, bending, gliding, ducking, sliding. The pace was slow out of necessity as they wormed their way through the lasers, often having to stop short with red criss-crossing right before their faces. Yet they were skilled and made far better time than any untrained robber-wannabe would have. The last set of beams right before the door to the security room was a bit tricky, requiring one leap and somersault over it. She landed on her hands, dropped, and rolled off her back and up onto her feet, before pressing her back against the wall and waiting on Locke.

Oh, if she could have seen his face! Beneath that black cloth that obscured his features, he was grinning from ear to ear. He was even slower than she was in progressing through the field of lasers, but he managed to successfully tumble his way through them. He mirrored her last jump and somersault before popping up and leaning back-first against the wall as well. He turned, then lowered his voice as he spoke to her. "Fun."

"Very," she breathed and pointed to the door. "It's all you now, love."

A quick but careful spin carried Locke away from the wall and Valie, and in front of the door. He removed one of the straps from his shoulder, swinging the pack in front of him. He opened it up carefully, rooting around until he found the thin strips of metal that would serve as his lock picks. He examined the door with a smirk. It was solid and grey, the designers not having bothered to paint such a utilitarian door. There were also no signs that the door was, in fact, the door to the security room. Both the handle and the deadbolt above it appeared to be locked. With the lock picks in his left hand, Locke lifted the right glove to his mouth and bit it, pulling it off carefully with his teeth. He dropped it back into his right hand, then held it out for Valie wordlessly.

Oh, what, she had been demoted to side kick? He couldn't see the roll of her eyes, but the manner with which she accepted his glove showed she did not approve. He had a perfectly serviceable pack! Valie crossed her arms and watched him with an air of impatience as she quipped quietly, "You'd better not touch anything. And if you do and they catch you, you had better not rat me out."

Rather than respond, he waggled blue fingers in the air at her, before plucking one of the picks from his set and starting to work on the locks. The one on the handle he managed to pick fairly fast, but the deadbolt seemed to be giving him some problems. The faint white handprint scar on top of his hand seemed to be straining with the effort, as he jimmied the small piece of metal inside the lock. Finally, he felt it "give", and he set the pick back among its mates, placing the set back in his backpack once more. He reached for the glove he had just handed to Valie, the flat tone of voice not quite able to hide his gratitude. "Thank you."

"How to get in..." she murmured pensively, tapping the lips of her white face mask. She didn't seem to comprehend Locke's confusion, but instead related it to her own. Value couldn't reach the drawers by just standing at the doorway and leaning in. "Oh!" A broad grin, needfully hidden, spread across her lips. "That should work." She pulled her grappling hook off her belt, securing the hook on part of the vault door. "Hold this, won't you... lover?" she wondered lightly, giving the door a light pat. Hesitation came from nearly stumbling over the elvish equivalent. "It's a bit heavy, but it'd be rather unfortunate if it swung closed on me, don't you think?"

He got a good solid grip on the curved edges of the vault door, nodding to her as she fastened her grappling hook to it. "It would be unfortunate. Good thing I am not heartless." He returned the smile, though the black fabric hid it just like her white mask had obscured her own grin.

"Or at least have a sense of self-preservation. If I get caught, so do you." The severity of her words were cut by her soft laughter, and she stretched out the length of rope as she walked up to the edge of the vault. A barred door stood between her and the inside, but testing it proved it wasn't locked, and she let it swing in toward the vault. Turning toward the open door, she began to slowly lean back, carefully lowering herself with the rope. Once she was able to lean in far enough, she reached over and pulled out one of the drawers, then one of the higher ones for a handhold. Then she pulled herself back up. "There, that ought to do it." She left the grappling hook stuck in the door. She'd come back for it. Valie leaned in to pull closed the barred door. Almost. Just before it latched, she hopped up onto the door, holding onto the bars, and rode it into the vault. Before she clanged into the side of the cabinet of drawers, she stepped off onto one of the open drawers, using the upper one as a handhold. Shaking open her bag, she reached into the drawer she was holding on to, pulling out a handful of coins... before casting them back in. "Silver." She kicked open the next drawer near her, pulled open another, and began to work her way across the room.

He couldn't help but let out a low whistle as she managed to navigate her way into the vault without touching the floor, with acrobatic flair that almost had him envious. Almost. "Room for two in there, or should I wait until you've had your way with the coins?" He looked at the door, the open drawers, and the floor, and he was thankful the mask mostly hid the apprehensive look on his face.

"Yeah, you can come in. But you'll have to leave first. I don't think I can make the leap from that end to the door without hitting the floor." She gestured to the other side of the vault for indication. She continued to work her way across the vault, fishing into the drawers. Silver, silver... then gold... Finally platinum. Valie worked her way across until she came across drawers of gold again, balancing herself on them as she began to scoop out the platinum coins (very carefully) and fill her bag with them.

He tilted his neck left to right, then interlocked his knuckles and cracked them, before he stepped up to the entrance of the vault. Sheer muscled grace carried him past the barred door and onto the hand and foot holds that Valie had so graciously provided for him. For a moment, he felt a slight wobble in his muscles and he looked about ready to slip, but he gritted his teeth and clung solidly to the side. Once he felt he had a solid grip, he started to open his own set of drawers, looking for the most valuable coins, of course.

Her bag was soon weighted down with platinum. "Grab what you can. This is a one-time shot we have here." Emptied drawers were pushed back in as she slowly worked her way back toward Locke. It was rather exhausting, clinging to and balancing precariously atop the drawers. Her tone was rather conversational as she wondered to him, "Wanna hit the safe deposit boxes after this? Should be less of a trial." However, a keen observer could hear the strain and exertion in her voice.

"Been a while since I've tested my bumping skills." He could feel the sweat forming and freezing on his face into droplets, his arms becoming a little rubbery. It felt like the bag was going to drag him down to the ground if he put too many more coins into it, so with a sigh, he jumped back for the interior door, then extricated himself from the interior of the vault.

She followed suit not long after, pausing to take a moment to catch her breath. "Whew. That was a little harder than I thought." Valie could only laugh, though. She was due a second wind, but it hadn't come by the time she wandered toward the boxes, pulling out her set of lock picks. "So... You see the two keyholes there?" she wondered, pointing them out on one. "The boxes require two keys... Or two simultaneous lock picking attempts."

Locke set his bag of loot down on one of the tables in the safe deposit box room, then removed his backpack as well. He quickly rummaged through his things, producing a smooth black box about the length of his hand. He unsnapped the clasp, revealing a set of stainless steel lock picks and tension wrenches. "We'll see how rusty I am." He wiggled his fingers briefly, before taking up one of his trusty picks and wrenches.

The two didn't have too much trouble cracking open an array of boxes, though they found more worthless items than they did hidden treasures. Birth certificates, deeds, legal documents, etc. Perhaps of use to others, but not "petty" thieves who were more concerned about how to launder their pilfered platinum. Occasionally, they came across cash or jewelery, both of which they eagerly snatched up. Breaking into the safe deposit boxes was more of a bust than not, but it still proved worthwhile. And it did give them both time to recuperate from the gymnastics in the vault. After dividing the loot evenly, there wasn't much left to do in the bank. Valie retrieved her grappling hook and looped it onto her belt. "So... I think we're done here? Time to make our quick getaway?"