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Thread: (M) Bay Water Bandits IC (Lea and Siks)

  1. #31
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    Whistler's smile left his face as he watched the girl's body language and her words. He frowned lightly. Open mouth insert foot. He thought before he pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you aren't one of his clingers." He kissed the top of her head sighing. "You've gained your notoriety by sheer skill and resolve, as for me being the boss's Golden Goose? I wouldn't go that far, more like his personal pension plan. Before I got paired with you I was sent out everyday all day to work, forty plus hours a week. Barely time enough to sleep and eat. Being a Mage isn't all it's cracked up to be, if we make it out of this life you'll probably have better skills and more options for employment than me." He walked out with her and locked the door before gently gripping her hand again.

    "If I can hide my skills that might change, but once people know I'm a mage my only jobs will be this job, some hired killer, or part of some governmental police force. With power comes trouble as my mother used to say." Unconsciously he laced their fingers together and held onto Libby tighter. "Despite what you may think, you're prolly more valuable to him than me. You can do anything really, I can only do what I can do. You can hide better and do more jobs for the group. You can steal, you can be a runner, a merchant, an Admin, pretty much any job he needs you for." He hugged her around her waist again smiling softly. "Don't sell yourself so short wife, you've help make both of us the best."


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  2. #32
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    (Illegal bump >.> )


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  3. #33
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    Libby was not the biggest fan of being touched for extended periods of time (call it a defense mechanism, if you will); but even so, she did not display any sign of this to Whistler. Instead, she merely looked down at her feet as he spoke, only casually glancing up towards him to let him know that she was not ignoring his words.

    Usually, any touches from him manifested in playful flicks to her pointed ears, fluffs to her hair, and other short-lived, menial forms of contact. That sort of touch had always been easy enough to endure (and easy enough to push away), as it was something she could combat with something as small as a sassy remark or a pinch of her own.

    But this was different.

    Whistler was suddenly touching her—albeit lightly—more intimately, and she could feel her usual internal reaction of don’t touch me bubble up on the inside of her. She ignored this involuntary inclination, however. How could she push away Whistler?

    “Nice speech,” she commented with an amused half smile, immediately after he’d finished his spiel. Everything he said truly had made an impression on her, but again, she gave no sign to these feelings. Instead, as Whistler tightened his grip around her hand, she simply returned the gesture, almost genuinely.

    And... thank you, Whis.

    *

    “Here we are, Bart,” Libby uttered nonchalantly, just as their cab pulled to a stop in front of the Rizzol Bank. Only one block away stood Libby’s new work place, the Cafe Deja Vú. She was doing her best to appear ready, but truth be told, the half-elf was still not fully sure what awaited her there. Even so, she figured that she should just relax and trust that Rike knew what he was doing.

    Click.

    As her seat belt was released, the lady thief blinked at the mage beside her in a hesitant anticipation, feeling a bit in the dark as to what was coming next. But she tried to hide this bit of awkwardness she felt by moseying around the inside of that hideous zebra print purse, looking for cash.

    Rike knows best.

    “Here, babe.”

    He trusts me...

    ”I’ll get the fare.”

    ...and I trust him.
    Last edited by Leanna; 08-15-2018 at 07:56 PM.




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  4. #34
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    The Mage gave his pseudo wife a smile and a soft kiss on the cheek. "Thanks love, you're the best. See you later tonight." He paused for somewhat dramatic timing before leaning in and kissing Libby on the lips. "And remember I love you with all my heart." It was for selling the bit, but deep down he kinda felt like that. He gave her hand a squeeze slipping a small knife into it well away from the cabby's eyes. He wasn't sure if she'd need it, but in this world a small girl like her is more likely to need a knife than him. Plus if trouble really came for him he could set it on fire in some clever way.

    He slipped out of the cab and straightened up the god awful suit Rike put him in. If he made it through this he was gonna have a few choice words for the Robber Baron about his wardrobe choices. He took a deep breath and walked into the bank to begin his job as a janitor.
    Last edited by SikstaSlathalin; 10-24-2018 at 11:51 PM.


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  5. #35
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    As Whistler (or Bartholomew, rather) moved in to give a kiss goodbye, Libby purposely eschewed the previous feelings of uncertainty that she had been harbouring over the touchy-feely nature of this particular job. Now was the time for Libby to truly take on the persona of Elisa, so... here went nothing.

    Okay, Libby, she began to think in an inner monologue, at the exact moment that his lips connected with hers. Be convincing, be convincing, be convincing.

    With her overarching goal of gaining Rike’s approval still in the back of her mind, Libby appeared to now be falling into the part with more ease, wrapping her twiggy arms around Whistler’s Bartholomew’s neck in a parting embrace that was... surprisingly comforting.

    I wonder if Whis feels as awkward about all this as I do, the half-elf questioned inwardly as she began to experience small flutters in the pit of her stomach. Taken aback by this unexpected, involuntary feeling, she moved away from Whistler, perhaps a bit too suddenly.

    “Okay. See you tonight,” she responded as her fingers curled around the small knife that was now hidden safely within her palm. She did not know what this day had in store, but she suddenly was experiencing a spike in confidence that made her feel ready for it.

    *

    As Libby made her way through the entrance of Café Deja Vú, the chime of a small bell greeted her as she stepped over the door’s threshold and into what appeared to be a hole-in-the-wall diner. The entire place was rather dingy and, oddly, seemed to be completely empty.

    How peculiar...

    Closing the door behind her, the undercover bandit began to take a few more steps forward, passing several green-leathered booths that, upon closer inspection, had surely seen better days. In an attempt to repair the rips in the upholstery, the damaged areas were covered by various arrays of duct tape.

    “Er. Hello?” Libby said quietly into the eerie, empty room, with the tick, tock, tick, tock of a vintage owl clock being the only sound that permeated the room. For a moment, that clock had Libby’s undivided attention; that is, until her keen eyesight spotted a roach creeping across the white-and-green checked vinyl flooring on the far end of the room.

    Disgusting...

    “Perhaps... I’ll come back later...” Libby said once more into empty space, for some reason getting the feeling that someone was listening. As a rule, she tended to follow her intuition—and right now, it was telling her that there was something definitely not right here. She was beginning to feel that spike in confidence that she had experienced earlier start to wane.

    Or not come back here at all, her gut instinct warned her.

    Deciding to follow this inclination to leave right now, the undercover Bay Water Bandit was about to turn her heel to go, when... that bell began to chime, once more. Alarmed, Libby placed a single hand in her pocket, covertly feeling for the small knife that Whistler had transferred to her.

    “Who the fuck are you?” said a masculine voice; one that was coming from a very tall, very brawny male whose face was marked by a giant scar that went straight across his right eye. “We don’t open for another hour.”

    In his calloused hands he carried two large black trash bags that were completely filled, so the stranger appeared to be... taking in the trash, and not out?

    “I’m the new waitress,” Libby responded as evenly as possible, trying to sound polite, but still not able to shake away the dubious feeling that was now filling where flutters had been earlier, when her partner-in-crime had kissed her. The cold, silent stare that the trash-man was now giving her didn’t help ease any of that, either.

    Just after these words escaped her lips, Libby heard the distinct sound of footprints coming up from behind her. Even more alarmed now, she flirted with the idea of pulling out that knife from Whistler and sticking it into whoever was behind her, before making a run for the back room (as the large man was now blocking the front entrance). So, needless to say, a look of relief landed on Libby’s face as she found that the person behind her was... a beautiful, kind-looking young lady.

    This woman offered Libby a warm and welcoming smile that complimented the long blonde locks that framed her bright blue eyes, while her pair of pert breasts spilt a small bit over the top of her waitress uniform. “You must be Elisa!” the feminine voice exclaimed cheerfully to Libby, who was trying to hide the fact that her heart was racing. The waitress did not hesitate to extend out her immaculately manicured hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah, and that boar over there is Pete.”

    The man with the trash bags, Pete, began to take several steps closer to Libby, looking as bemused as Sarah looked amused. “Don’t let his mean mug bother you,” Sarah said with a wink—one that Libby was unsure if it was directed at her, or this Pete person. “He’s our short order cook, and just a big, soft, cuddly teddy bear at heart. Aren’t you, Pete?”

    In response to this notion, the cook said nothing; but instead let out a cynical grunt before disappearing into the back room, out of sight. Sarah playfully shrugged, the amusement in her eyes growing ever stronger. This waitress loved to tease this cook—and probably men in general—it was evident.

    A short bout of silence passed between the two girls, with that same owl clock tick-tick-ticking away, as Libby loosened her white-knuckled grip on the blade she still was holding within her pocket. Her eyes followed Sarah, who by now, was traipsing back and around the front counter until she stood, tippy-toed, reaching for a small box on a shelf just above. Inside the box was another waitress uniform, and this one was for Libby, who was now busy scratching at her wig, ever so slightly. The thing was still itchy as all hell.

    “Here you go, Elisa!”

    The blonde-haired waitress was again smiling warmly.

    “Change into this, and then we can start showing you around the place!”
    Last edited by Leanna; 11-28-2018 at 12:00 AM.

  6. #36
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    This early in the morning the Rizzol Bank was rather empty. But Whistler or Bartholomew was far from the only one there. His suit was nice, but it still looked like a thrift store bargain compared to the silk ones parading around the bank. The young thief never felt so out of place and that's really saying something for an orphan mage turned thief.

    Bank robbery jobs weren't his thing so he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do in a swank place like this. Though as luck would have it or by the simple fact he looked lost he wouldn't be left to gawk long. A gruffly cleared throat made him look carefully to his right and saw a stern old man studying him. Looking as meek as he could Bart moved to the man, nodding slightly he spoke in an altered voice. "Hello, I'm Bartholomew Axin. I'm...I'm here for an interview to be the new janitor?"

    The old man snorted lightly then motioned for the young man to follow him. Bart did so keeping his head down while his eyes roamed over every inch of the building sizing up everything he could. People, windows, doors, everything anything that could help him rob this place blind when the time came. The man led him through the maze of hallways and offices until they reach what Bart assumed was the back of the bank they stopped in front of a silver employees only door. Keys jingled and soon the door opened and Bart followed his nameless guide inside. Once inside Bart saw another old man this one much friendlier looking sitting at a desk dressed in a clean gray jumpsuit with the nametag Samuel over his right breast pocket. Samuel nodded to the first man who quickly exited the same door they came in from locking it behind him.

    "Sit down Mister Axin, I'm Samuel Martin." He extended his hand to the teenager.

    Bart sat down making sure to straiten his suit coat. "Hello Mr. Martin you can call me Bart."

    The old man's eyes twinkled lightly and he leaned back the doddering demeanor changing to keen and calculating. The trademark of a master thief. "Ah Bart." He flipped a few switches under his desk the cameras around them dimmed before shutting off completely. "Rike told me you'd be coming Whistler. You got stuck with a helluva job here kid. Settle in and we'll begin the "interview".

    Whistler instantly relaxed and quickly loosened the tie rubbing his eyes slowly. The "interview" would just be Sam telling Whistler everything he'd need to know about the bank and it's bosses so far.


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  7. #37
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    All throughout the city of Halin, clocks had begun to strike five, signalling to the common layman that yet another day of toil was soon coming to an end.


    d o n g


    d o n g


    d o n g


    d o n g


    d o n g



    Yet none sounded louder than the famous town clock that adorned the imposing entrance of the Rizzol Bank.

    "Woo! You can always count on the Rizzol to ring in my faaaavourite time of the day!" Sarah exclaimed at the reverberating sound, even as she flipped the sign in the Café Deja Vu to CLOSED.

    "D R I N K I E S !"

    Libby half-focused her attention on to the bubbly blonde waitress as she also turned to fetch the hideous zebra print purse from Whistler, wherein she quickly stashed a meagre jar of tips. Today had been the lady bandit's first experience doing so-called honest work, and she could not say that she had particularly enjoyed it.

    Handling other people's food, quite frankly, made her feel like vomiting.

    "Er… what?"

    Puzzled, Libby blinked at the blonde's dazzling enthusiam for...

    "Drink… i e s ?"

    Sarah then smiled brightly at Libby, scampering over towards the half-elf to lock arms with her.

    "Yup! We're going out! WOO!"

    Just then, Pete the one-eyed cook had began to exit the kitchen, which clearly meant that all had been cleaned within the kitchens, and it was time to lock up the place. Saying nothing, the man trudged towards the front door, somehow emanating off a silent command that the girls should follow him.

    "I… dunno," Libby responded to Sarah, albeit a bit distracted now, unable to ignore the surly stare that the cook was now giving her, directly. It was unnerving, the way his one eye ogled her; so much so that it even felt worse than the way he had spoken to her. Because all day, the man had been nothing but short, curt, and cold.

    Much less welcoming than Sarah was, to say the least.

    "I shouldn't be spending my tips," the half-elf replied to the other waitress, looking down at the loose change that she had just placed within her purse. "Besides… I have someone waiting for me."

    At this notion, Sarah raised one of her perfectly groomed brows and sniggered a bit. Judging by Libby's tone, this certain 'someone' was likely a male acquaintance of some sort.

    "Who? A boyfriend?"

    Sarah then rolled her long lashed eyes.

    "Puhlease. Romeo can wait. Besides, you're the first coworker I've had in a while, unless you count Smiley here. You're coming!"

    Appearing unamused by the nickname, the cook once more glanced over at the girls before impatiently jerking his head towards the door. It was quite clear that he was indicating that it was time to vacate the premises.

    "And don't you worry about your tips. We won't be paying for anything tonight, believe you me."

    Sarah then pushed up her breasts, playfully.

    "These things are magic!"

    She then turned towards the cook, still propping up her assets.

    "Pete, care to join us for lady's night?"

    Libby's eyes quickly shot from Sarah to Pete, and for some reason she grew ever more intimidated by the hard looks that the cook was so blatantly dishing out at the two of them.

    "No," was all he said.

    An awkward silence then occurred between the three, causing Sarah to again roll her eyes and begin to exit the cafe. Not daring to look up at the hard man, Libby decided it was time to press by him and follow Sarah out. However, before the half-elf could do so, her keen hearing heard the cook mumble in an eerie resolution.

    "I'd rather die," he said, looking directly at Libby.

    *

    Later That Night.

    *

    Bahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

    Oh.

    Oh dear.

    What time is it?


    Stumbling up the main corridor staircase, Libby had finally made it back to their apartment.

    Well... or at least I'm... kindamaybesure it is.

    Some twenty minutes before, the half-elf had been attempting to force her key into a lock that was three floors below where Whistler was, which eventually resulted in that door being opened by an irritated old man who told her she was barking up the wrong tree.

    But this is it! she thought to herself, triumphantly, staring at her real apartment this time. I'm sure this is the one.

    I memember!


    The tiniest of knicks and the smallest of squeaks could then likely be heard by Whistler from the opposite side of their apartment door, as a very inebriated Libby aimed for the keyhole, but miserably failed to unlock the door every time.

    Inevitably, these failures resulted in such strong frustration that the bandit kicked the door staunchly, before uttering something quite incoherent...

    "Idunwanbthnaowhisssss."
    Last edited by Leanna; 03-22-2019 at 07:09 PM.




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  8. #38
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    Despite his early misgivings Whistler's first day as a Janitor wasn't half bad. Sure a lot of it was nasty as all hell, but compared to that one time the sewage pipes broke outside HQ it was mundane. Still he kept his head focused on his job, gathering whatever info he could from eavesdropping or snooping he had learned a lot, he wasn't sure if any of it was worthwhile, but still at the end of his shift he repeated it all to Samuel and clocked out.

    His first day was shorter than he expected. In fact he walked by Libby's job and gave her a wave, but she didn't notice him as she was still busy. So he shrugged and went on home, maybe he could whip up a simple dinner for his pseudo-wife and try his hand at being a caring husband again.

    Arriving back at their apartment he busied himself with cleaning up and preparing dinner. He wasn't sure when Libby would be back, but a few hours passed and no sign. He finished dinner and ate himself being sure to put Libby's in the stove to keep warm. Still more hours passed and he was beginning to worry, did she get nicked or killed? He couldn't know and the orders to keep far away from the Bay Water Bandits and it's people were still in effect. So he sat and discovered what TV was, more time passed and he was beginning into feel tired. Maybe she chickened out of this whole thing, proved once and for all she didn't have what it takes to be a dedicated Thief. This angered him, but he kept calm. The last thing they needed was him setting fire to the apartment. So still he waited, but just as he was about to give up he heard the drunken ramblings of a young woman come down his hall and stop at his door. The sound of fumbling keys and incoherent slurred speech followed, his annoyance flared, but he quelled it.

    Grumbling under his breath. "Idiotic damn lightweight." He opened the door after she kicked it and caught his partner as she fell into his arms. "You know you can't hold your alcohol Libby." He sighed hefting the girl up not caring over much what parts of her he gets a pleasant handful of to keep her from falling over. She was small but perky as he figured. He kicked the door shut and carried her to bed. Flopping her onto it he carefully removed her work uniform and hung it up before putting blanket over her partially nude form. With a sigh he leaned in and kissed her on the head. "Hope you didn't say or do anything stupid out there." He placed a bucket on the floor by her head and went to lock up the house before putting her meal in the fridge. Maybe tomorrow she would tell him how much his soup sucked, but tonight he just hoped she wouldn't choke on her own vomit. He debated sleeping the couch, but the worry about his Half-Elf friend dying in her sleep from alcohol poisoning kept him in the bed. He had a feeling he was gonna wake up with something wrong happening, but at least he'd be there for her if she needed him, which so far was seemingly a one-sided deal.


    Xbox One Gamertag: Free Today56 just say who you are first.
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  9. #39
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    It did not take much for Libby to topple over into Whistler, considering the condition she was in. Even an act as simple as kicking their apartment door had been more than enough to disrupt balance, and subsequently worsen her current state of disorientation. Because at that moment, the world around her began to spin, too wildly, too abruptly. Even her usually nimble legs became as unstable as jelly, causing her to reach out to Whistler for support.

    It was almost as if, in a matter of seconds, her body had turned into dead weight.

    "But I held it juz fine," the drunken bandit responded, trying to convince herself that she was okay, and attempting to counter the mage's claim that she could not handle her tipple.

    "I di'n't drop a single glass..."

    Amused by her play on words, Libby smiled faintly at her own joke, quite unaware of much else at the moment. So much so that she barely even seemed to notice when Whis hoisted her up and off her two wobbly feet. All she knew right now was that she appeared to be floating, and the sensation was as pleasant as a lovely afternoon walk in springtime. The transfer and release of her own body weight onto Whistler felt just so good, and it even made her laugh a little.

    "Well, Wis-lerrrr, I hope you din't say or do anything stupid," she retorted, purposefully deepening her voice to mimic and mock his own, which in turn only made her laugh all the more. At least until the mage began to head for the bedroom, that is.

    The motion of Whistler's stride, combined with Libby's heavily intoxicated state, kicked off yet another round of the spinnies for her. Her increasing dizziness was becoming a rather unwelcome guest, and in an attempt to combat its presence, she buried her face into the shoulder of the mage.

    There she let out a small groan, nuzzling in towards him for some sort of respite from the uncontrollable world that was beginning to spiral so ruthlessly around her.


    *


    Once placed on the bed, Libby began to overheat, making it easy enough to feel (and even see) the warmth that was emanating from her pores. And it was almost amazing, the level of thermal radiation that exited from her skin.

    Of course, anyone well acquainted with Libby knew that it was a usual occurrence for her heightened senses to relieve themselves by pulsating out heat as she rested in the night—as this was quite a common trait among the hypersensitive elven race.

    (However, to the mage, her current temperature likely seemed more fever like, probably, and stronger than it had been the previous night. Perhaps it was an adverse, biological reaction to Libby imbibing upon the attractively packaged poison otherwise known as alcohol? Was this her body in some sort of stress mode?)

    "I'm not stupid, Whistler," she spoke up, seemingly out of nowhere, her previously fumbling words becoming a bit clearer than before. "I loss the strange man. He loss track. I made him... lose..."

    Did he wan my purse?

    The thing was quite eye catching, in fairness.

    Did he wan my money?

    As Whistler undressed her, she oddly felt no embarrassment. She was that fucking tired. So instead, she clumsily laid herself down to snuggle into the blankets, even as her fingers began to gently rub a faint bruise that was starting to form on her left hip.

    Or did he wan my tips?
    Last edited by Leanna; 03-30-2019 at 11:41 AM.




    art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable

    - banksy


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