Quick Garrett drabble bc I’m banking on Nightdive making a Thief remake that’s better than whatever the fuck Eidos did back in 2014. Yes this involves some very overused tropes. It’s all I could think of for the moment.
[Dusk Run-in]
It was autumn. A brisk, cold evening too. You were on your way home from a town hall event in the City. As townspeople rushed home, you were pushed about them, the streets near-packed. It wasn’t odd, considering that most townspeople gathered at the town hall during these events for general gossip and enjoyment. You could already overhear women chattering about how Lord Bafford had been found guilty of tax evasion. It wasn’t surprising, really. Even if he was wealthy, he always seemed to stick his toes into some form of shady business. “Money laundering” the common folk would say. Either way the man was filthy rich. And as soon as you heard the news about his scepter being stolen, you almost woke up a pack of Burricks from laughing so hard. He had it coming, that’s for sure.
But, back to the now. The amount of elbows and side clashes you had received from the townspeople as they briskly returned home was enough to keep you off your balance, crashing into an oddly dressed man. Which was weird. Because he was the only man there who seemed to never be noticed by anyone else. Only you.
You yelped in surprise as your body unintentionally collided with the man’s body, making him drop whatever he was holding —a book, it seemed— as your face hit the soft surface of expensive fabrics that seemed to be well worn out. You scrambled back, apologizing, reaching for the man’s book, but not before he picked it up himself.
“You should be more careful.” The man grumbled, helping you back up. “And for your sake, don’t apologize. It’s not worth my time.”
You looked up at him in slight surprise. He didn’t look like most townsfolk, even if you only caught a slight glimpse of his face as he helped you to your feet. He looked…rough. His eye had a scar…a long one at that. And…it seemed to be somewhat reddish, too. You couldn’t tell if it was swollen from injury or just red from whatever was in the air. And neither of his eyes were the same color. One was a bright green, but the other was a deep grey-brown color. Like worn down bark.
“Sir— are you ok—?” You started, looking down to dust off your legs when he was gone, like he had been swept off by the wind.
