miles baines: riff-raff! street rat! (mimicks) wrote in emillion,
miles, ari, & damia: the front [complete!]
"It wouldn't match the tapestries," Miles agreed, in the dry voice of a military man who didn't much care for this sort of thing, but indulged a very pretty wife who did. Lot 22 was a marble bust of some long-forgotten Viera general; the married couple bid half-heartedly on it, pretending their attention wasn't slavering and hankering and anticipating what came next.
Lot 23 was what they'd been waiting for. The very moment it was announced (Witches in the Air, oil on canvas, 1798), Miles thumbed his earpiece, turned his head away, and whispered into it: "It's time."
On the other end of the communicator, their other group sprang into motion even while the guards started striding towards the back door, heading off to retrieve the priceless piece from the vault. These other busts and statues and vases were expensive, yes, but they could not be forged and carried with the same level of ease.
The three of them exchanged a look, hands settling into pockets, now ready to cause the distraction in the main room and wreak havoc as soon as the other team reported that it was time.