Sardonically, ocean-view eyes trotted upward toward what she’d expected to see; the seemingly unblinking black eye of the watchful void. Were human beings, who are by nature lazy creatures, really all that vigilant when tasked with a tedious, minimum wage responsibility that they could nap during? She’d nodded sagely, slowly, shoving a runaway strand of straw she’d spun into gold behind her ear, grinning. And she returned her gaze quickly to him, come on, written between the lines of her eyelashes. She might be bending her own truth, but the truth of the world itself was unchanging.
“Big brother? The one with the dead-end security job who’s a half-retarded police academy reject, reading Game of Thrones as we speak and too distracted with considering either a role as a Ranger or Berserker Elf in his LARP group, or the big brother who’s paid handsomely to overlook certain things that happen on the casino floor? Don’t let black shiny balls fool you, not all of them actually work. And when they do work, sometimes the people don’t.”
Monkey-face, or grease ball the velour magician, was searching for something in the constantly flowing crowd underneath the dim gleam of his gold-rimmed aviators. Jaws open, checking his Michael Kors watch, and loosening into a wolfish smile once he spotted something. A nervous-looking, be-wigged strawberry blonde freckle-face seated at a table alone, in front of a buffet. He made his way toward her with the determination of a shark in a wave, trying to catch a mermaid. Amy realized she was now in the best seat of the house.
“And petty theft isn’t always the only highlight on a criminals resume…”