Clucking her tongue, Gretch kept her eyes on the end of the alley. "Those are excuses, Scabior," she shot back mildly, glancing back towards the mouth of the alley before following him into the house and closing the door carefully behind them.
"Back to petty crime, are we?" She asked, absently, crossing the room to examine a sculpture perched on a side table. Tilting it back, she studied the underside, then pulled an interested face and slipped it into her bag.