"There are ways," she insists, leaning over the table and gesturing animatedly. "Like an Argonian scam or a hawk drop. You make the mark think they're getting something good, but illicitly - when they wind up swindled, what can they do? Go to the nearest guard and say," and here she puts on what she thinks is a very stern, outraged expression, and she deepens her husky voice, taking on the tones of the recently bamboozled, "'That woman over there told me I was to get a portion of the drug money, but then she took mine!'" Spreading wide across her face as she speaks, Case's smile is brilliant with childlike wonderment. "Of course not, because then they have to admit they were trying to get drug money, or trying to get my money."
That persistent smile gives Delvin pause. All of the work the guild does is done in shadow, slipping nimbly in and out, teasing locks open and stealing from under people's noses but, and this has always been important: never being seen.
He had to go and get involved with the girl who gets her thrills from thieving in the light of day, from making small-talk with the mark the whole time she's pocketing the goods - getting the mark to open the lock for her with a legitimate key and hand her the money.
It's dangerous, it's audacious, and despite his instinctive cringe at the idea of being so exposed on the job, it's making him smile too.
Grifting, evidently, is a favorite subject to Case, because now that the floodgates have opened she seems reluctant to stop talking giddily about her exploits. Like she's been waiting all this time for someone to talk to who might understand. "Argis and I pulled a Glim-Drop once in Windhelm--"
"Argis?"
"A friend from Markarth. Not a thief, not by any stretch of the imagination, but a big softy, so it was easy to sweet talk him into it, especially since he was just the catch--"
"So how's it done?"
"What, a Glim-Drop?"
"No, the whole thing. Grifting."
Case's expression has gone almost dreamy; she drops her chin in one hand, elbow propped in the opposing palm. "The best way? Make them think they're robbing you blind. The irony is beautiful, and you never feel bad about taking a mark for all he's worth when he thinks he's in it to outsmart you."
Delvin finds himself staring off into the ether somewhere in the vicinity of her cleavage, thinking distantly of the possibilities. Eventually, he glances up to her face. "And you're good at this?"
"You know the Riften dungeon? Windhelm, Solitude, Whiterun?"
"Pretty well, unfortunately."
Case's look turns smug. "Really? What're they like?"
"Smartarse. Alright," he says, rapping his knuckles on the tables. "I'm in."
"And what makes you think I was planning on asking you to join my game?"
It's his turn to look smug, and he lets it drip from his voice just to make sure she knows. "The way you been prancin' about in them costumes for me to see rather than changin' afore you ever got here. Face it, love. You've been dyin' for a real partner in crime."
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timeasmymeasure
If You Catch My Grift; (3/?)
Date: 2012-11-05 07:17 pm (UTC)That persistent smile gives Delvin pause. All of the work the guild does is done in shadow, slipping nimbly in and out, teasing locks open and stealing from under people's noses but, and this has always been important: never being seen.
He had to go and get involved with the girl who gets her thrills from thieving in the light of day, from making small-talk with the mark the whole time she's pocketing the goods - getting the mark to open the lock for her with a legitimate key and hand her the money.
It's dangerous, it's audacious, and despite his instinctive cringe at the idea of being so exposed on the job, it's making him smile too.
Grifting, evidently, is a favorite subject to Case, because now that the floodgates have opened she seems reluctant to stop talking giddily about her exploits. Like she's been waiting all this time for someone to talk to who might understand. "Argis and I pulled a Glim-Drop once in Windhelm--"
"Argis?"
"A friend from Markarth. Not a thief, not by any stretch of the imagination, but a big softy, so it was easy to sweet talk him into it, especially since he was just the catch--"
"So how's it done?"
"What, a Glim-Drop?"
"No, the whole thing. Grifting."
Case's expression has gone almost dreamy; she drops her chin in one hand, elbow propped in the opposing palm. "The best way? Make them think they're robbing you blind. The irony is beautiful, and you never feel bad about taking a mark for all he's worth when he thinks he's in it to outsmart you."
Delvin finds himself staring off into the ether somewhere in the vicinity of her cleavage, thinking distantly of the possibilities. Eventually, he glances up to her face. "And you're good at this?"
"You know the Riften dungeon? Windhelm, Solitude, Whiterun?"
"Pretty well, unfortunately."
Case's look turns smug. "Really? What're they like?"
"Smartarse. Alright," he says, rapping his knuckles on the tables. "I'm in."
"And what makes you think I was planning on asking you to join my game?"
It's his turn to look smug, and he lets it drip from his voice just to make sure she knows. "The way you been prancin' about in them costumes for me to see rather than changin' afore you ever got here. Face it, love. You've been dyin' for a real partner in crime."