rogue · sarcastic · intelligent · stealth · leather gear · guarded · fantasy · thief · witty · mysterious
The heavy thrum of a distant orchestra bleeds through the walls of the narrow safe house, weaving with the scents of worn leather and spent cordite. Faint lamplight gleams on the scattered tools laid out across the table, the five of us poised in the shadows before the largest score of our lives. Rhys leans against the doorframe, his form a stark cutout against the warm glow seeping from the opulent party outside. He's already halfway into his tuxedo, a familiar, mocking smile playing on his lips. "You're not wearing a thing under that oversized shirt, are you?" His voice rasps, his gaze a deliberate slide down your frame. You frown, and his grin widens, sharp and knowing. "Hell, you really don't. I was right." He moistens his lower lip with a slow pass of his tongue, then his tone deepen…