Re: The Thief/The Flibbertigibbet
He hadn’t heard the approach of footsteps, and that was enough of a shock on its own. He was not a reckless man, did not make a habit of being caught with his pants down. And the awareness of another’s presence in the baggage car did not come as a thunderclap but rather as a dangerous rumble on the horizon, the threat of lighting on the air. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end first, and then he felt the weight of eyes unseen. He always knew when he was being watched.
But rather than recoil from where he stood, elbow-deep in the frothy lace of underthings that were hardly his size, he kept rifling and simply lifted his chin. And as soon as he spotted the woman in the doorway, he understood why he hadn’t heard her coming. Barely enough weight on her to make a sound, and one of her feet bare besides.
“Hello there,” he called, flashing her a smile. It was a very charming smile. It wasn’t arrogance to say that, just what he knew to be true. His teeth were white and straight. The outer corners of his eyes ruched up, projecting utmost sincerity. And all the while he did not slow in his rummaging through the suitcase, shoving aside camisoles and stockings in search of something he could fence when they reached their destination. Since she had not yet moved from the doorway, he raised his voice along with an eyebrow. “Coming, or going?”