And…there’s another fanfic bit of mine floating around the Thief archives. This from our shady protagonist’s POV. Those of you who went to grad school with me will recognize this scene, and will also recognize I have revised it since, to make the two characters’ voices more distinct. Right now they both sound rather Garrett-y.
Anyway, here’s the opening bit, and if you want to know what happens next, read the rest at the Thief-TheCircle archive, here. ~Jenn
He stepped in, and eased the hall door shut behind him. The hinges creaked a little just before the latch clicked. Reaching up by his head, he turned the wick all the way down in the lamp. A thin strip of orange light spilled in through the crack under the door. He kept his feet out of it. He leaned gently against the wall just next to the door and counted to ten, waiting for his eyes to adjust.
Ten. A large wardrobe to his right with a gold bauble on top, catching faint light from the chink in the drapes. An endtable in the corner, a potted plant. Straight as he looked, a long plain desk with a blotter, a ledger, some papers scattered on it. An inkpot cast a tiny black shadow on the tapestry hanging behind. The tapestry was surprisingly small, a perfect square, hung low above the desk. A family crest design, gold-fringed. He moved forward, casting glances at the window as he did. Fourth floor, midnight, probably okay. Still…
He leaned his bow against the side of the wardrobe and tried the handle, just to see.
Behind him, the hall door opened, creaking.
He melted into the near corner.