Finders, Keepers

⌆ a nervous tic or habit they do

⏀ describe their usual smile

⇅ do they look up or down while thinking?

❧ describe their usual sleeping position

✑ describe something they like without naming it

✜ what’s their posture like in a normal situation?

❖ describe their hands

❞ write a quote they would find themselves saying

§ how would their hair gray? or would they lose their hair first?

❤ describe how they show affection.

edenpride

    The night was lively, or as lively as it could get when the hoodlums of the Citadel decided to gather. It wasn’t just a get together and have a few drinks ordeal, this time it meant business. And as always, Kasumi was one to go big or to go home. Sennek, the Salarian was the technology expert, who would prove to be useful. Tianna, a gorgeous colbat skinned Asari, was going to be the distraction. Urch was in charge of taking the vault, after looking for sensors to be avoided — and here was where they reached their trial error.

    They needed a plus one.

    Heated discussions boiled over on who would take over, some even questioned the master thief herself for not taking part until Tianna spoke up.

    "There’s a smuggler in the lower wards, pretty good. Bumped into him a few times but nothing too big. Maybe he can lend us a—"

"Why would I want some rookie coming in? If we were doing a museum job, sure. Not this. This is much bigger." The petite woman snapped, gloved digits rubbing her temples with impatience.

    "I just think if you need someone he may be a good distraction. May be in for it. I can try finding him if you want."

Kasumi leaned back in her foldable chair, groaning with frustrations that now boiled over. “I’ll go fetch him. I’d at least like to talk to the guy before letting him walk on in. For all we know he could sell us out for more creds.” That was the issue with their line of work, trust was not something that was easy to come by. To so willingly let a stranger in seemed a little far fetched.

    So on the thief went, pulling up his private records to catch his face. Ember eyes scanned the crowd periodically before alas, finding the man she was prowling about for. And definitely not at the location someone with his reputation would be assumed to be working at. The glowing sign flickered with the words Upper Crust Bakery. A smuggler and a baker. How — odd.

"I don't know," he turian coworker muttered, "but can you cover for me? I've got some pastries in the oven, need to see if they turn out alright."

"How convenient. Yeah, I'll cover," he grunted. Pulling his apron over his head, he moved up to the counter. Any hint of a grimace vanished from his face the moment he turned to face his customer. "Hello, ma'am, how may I help?" He'd been working here long enough that he barely had to think about what he was saying. Once he got behind the counter he was like a drone. During quiet times it wasn't so bad, when he could have an actual conversation with the people he served. Now though it was the same handful of sentences, repeated until the words 'how are you?' held no meaning.

The bustle died down in no time. The Upper Crust had never been the most popular place in Bachjret Ward, so it never stayed busy long. Everyday their boss was saying that one day he'd move up in the world. Their food was probably good enough for the Presidium (then again, maybe Neil was biased), but their wallet wasn't big enough. He'd be surprised if it ever was.

He allowed the remaining customers to poke about their selection, undisturbed by his suggestions. Turning to the woman at the counter, Neil stopped short of asking the usual questions. Something about this woman told him that she didn't want to buy cupcakes. For one thing, there was the lipstick. Make-up applied that precisely was not smudged lightly.