#billiefoster

      ------HIS HANDS WERE antsy. places like this gave him the oddest sense of crushing darkness, despite the lights being clearly on, dimmed. it was the people, how many of them were packed together like sardines talking and galivanting and otherwise pretending everything in the world was alright. it took five minutes for redd to lift more than fifty bucks from a combined two people, wallets replaced in pockets with their owners none-the-wiser. he was skilled at surveying who was an easy mark, who wasn’t ... and she? was not an easy mark.

      still, he stood beside her, pushed toward a table where glasses were being poured - he imagined they would switch from whatever they were serving to champagne once it drew closer to midnight. but for now ... for now he lifted one of the glasses from the table and offered it to his companion-by-circumstance as if they were old friends. as if he knew her. as if he’d always known her. perhaps she made him feel guilty, just her presence. he swallowed the feeling down in lieu of false comradery.

      “ in a room full of people chatting and dancing you’re stuffed off to the side like a forgotten scarf. by choice or? ”

      ------OPULENCE WAS THE disease of humanity. people living in excess, thinking only of how they could further themselves with a blind disregard to the suffering of people literally right outside of their door. it was why redd performed this good service: breaking in and helping himself to whatever it was they left out. sometimes he pocketed the change once he fenced off the goods, sometimes he spread the wealth ... real robin hood shit. but only occasionally.

      and as he passed by the curio cabinet in the hall - something meant to  fill the space of an otherwise too large room connecting the master bedroom with the rest of the house, he spotted them: THE UGLIEST FUCKING DOG STATUETTES HE HAD EVER SEEN. rich people were fucking weird. this? was what they chose to show off in a cabinet meant to decline the collection of dust? this? and he stood, baffled, by the hideous display for just a moment ... he immediately thought of her.

      billie. oddities lined her home as if they were meant to be there, as if those specific objects were created just to exist within the confines of her little nest. mismatched scarves and mittens, he remembered their first conversation. it didn’t take long for him to reach forward and pluck the door to the cabinet open. and, as if they were worth a million dollars a piece ( and fuck, maybe they were ), redd plucked two of the statues from their home and delicately set them into the bag he’d snagged from the kitchen. now they were worth something to him, because they’d be gifts for her.

      rich people were fucking weird.