A better title than archrivals, hm. Ienzo stares out dreamily past the window at the end of the hall, watching over the various sporting clubs at practice, and recalls very late night whispers exchanged where he and his senior mates were all given better monikers. Schemer, he was called then, and this was really quite the juvenile scheme by comparison.
But there was another boy here with him now, for better or worse. The drink might make him merry, if not cleverer with pins.
At last the lock was sprung, and there was really no time for celebrations till they'd slipped inside. Throwing one last glance down the hall, he waited till Edmund had stepped inside, giving the doorknob an extra polishing with his own hanky, then followed after with delicate care in shutting the door behind them.
The history lecturer's office was eccentric, full of decorative odds and ends, cultural artefacts, ships in bottles, piles upon piles of unsorted books. Wilkes wasn't particularly tidy in his habits, and a bit of a doddering pack rat which made him rather easy to filch from, once you could get past the door. Ienzo pulled the shade down at the window, tugged the green-shaded library lamp on at his desk, and let his eyes do a quick pass over the room to see what had changed since the last time he'd been in here. He brought the chair over and stepped around to a certain relic of a powdered wig up on a high bookshelf, perched crookedly on a marble bust.
He extracted a much better shifty pick and wrench from its depths with a grin, hopping down with a sly wink at Edmund, and then crossed to the cupboard, which was no more or less antique than anything else in the office.
"You were saying then, about Wilkes and his societies?" He prompted helpfully, settling crosslegged on the floor as he set to work on the tarnished keyhole. He screwed up his tongue in the corner of his mouth- like the 'uncle' who'd shown him had always done, let his eyes slide far left, and listened- a stupid trick, really, a conman's theatrics, but having ritual always helps. In a moment there's a click, and the cabinet swings open.
"Ah, there's not much left..." Ienzo shoulders sag in disappointment, just long enough to get Edmund peering over his shoulder in worry, so that he can laugh like a tenor bell and then dutifully pass two near-full glass bottles off.
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Date: 2017-01-14 08:20 am (UTC)But there was another boy here with him now, for better or worse. The drink might make him merry, if not cleverer with pins.
At last the lock was sprung, and there was really no time for celebrations till they'd slipped inside. Throwing one last glance down the hall, he waited till Edmund had stepped inside, giving the doorknob an extra polishing with his own hanky, then followed after with delicate care in shutting the door behind them.
The history lecturer's office was eccentric, full of decorative odds and ends, cultural artefacts, ships in bottles, piles upon piles of unsorted books. Wilkes wasn't particularly tidy in his habits, and a bit of a doddering pack rat which made him rather easy to filch from, once you could get past the door. Ienzo pulled the shade down at the window, tugged the green-shaded library lamp on at his desk, and let his eyes do a quick pass over the room to see what had changed since the last time he'd been in here. He brought the chair over and stepped around to a certain relic of a powdered wig up on a high bookshelf, perched crookedly on a marble bust.
He extracted a much better shifty pick and wrench from its depths with a grin, hopping down with a sly wink at Edmund, and then crossed to the cupboard, which was no more or less antique than anything else in the office.
"You were saying then, about Wilkes and his societies?" He prompted helpfully, settling crosslegged on the floor as he set to work on the tarnished keyhole. He screwed up his tongue in the corner of his mouth- like the 'uncle' who'd shown him had always done, let his eyes slide far left, and listened- a stupid trick, really, a conman's theatrics, but having ritual always helps. In a moment there's a click, and the cabinet swings open.
"Ah, there's not much left..." Ienzo shoulders sag in disappointment, just long enough to get Edmund peering over his shoulder in worry, so that he can laugh like a tenor bell and then dutifully pass two near-full glass bottles off.