"Just so you know, telling me what to do is a quicker way to die than sticking a fork into a power outlet."
Len rolls his eyes, snatches the gloves, and shakes it off. The small hairs at the back of his neck still standing on end. He reaches for the crystals a second time and is rewarded with... a lesser shock, and he's ready for it this time. A light yank, with no budge. They'll need heavy equipment to pry the gems from the wall, and while the room is messy with tools and machinery, none of it has power.
That said, there are buckets of gem sitting beside the largest of the machines. The crystals don't have that mesmerizing glow, but they're polished, cut to perfection, and sparkle with their own inner light.
He crosses the room, sliding into a crouch to grab a handful of glittering gems, smiling, with teeth, as they slip between his gloved fingertips and back into the bucket with tiny, musical clinks. Expensive is his favourite sound.
Whatever they are, he wants to wear one on every finger. Now that would be one hell of a backhand.
"Two buckets. Two thieves." Len couldn't carry more than that anyway. He kicks Jacob's bucket across the wet floor, and starts filling his pockets. For a man whose pants are glued to his legs, he has no trouble finding places to squirrel away his share. Pockets. Cuffs. The bandolier hidden beneath his soaking black sweater, briefly visible against pale, scarred torso when he tugs up the hem of his shirt to stash the goods.
"Let's make a deal. I don't tell anyone about our little treasure chest, and neither do you. We hide anything we can't grab under a sheet of ice, and come back for what's left after we restore power."
no subject
Len rolls his eyes, snatches the gloves, and shakes it off. The small hairs at the back of his neck still standing on end. He reaches for the crystals a second time and is rewarded with... a lesser shock, and he's ready for it this time. A light yank, with no budge. They'll need heavy equipment to pry the gems from the wall, and while the room is messy with tools and machinery, none of it has power.
That said, there are buckets of gem sitting beside the largest of the machines. The crystals don't have that mesmerizing glow, but they're polished, cut to perfection, and sparkle with their own inner light.
He crosses the room, sliding into a crouch to grab a handful of glittering gems, smiling, with teeth, as they slip between his gloved fingertips and back into the bucket with tiny, musical clinks. Expensive is his favourite sound.
Whatever they are, he wants to wear one on every finger. Now that would be one hell of a backhand.
"Two buckets. Two thieves." Len couldn't carry more than that anyway. He kicks Jacob's bucket across the wet floor, and starts filling his pockets. For a man whose pants are glued to his legs, he has no trouble finding places to squirrel away his share. Pockets. Cuffs. The bandolier hidden beneath his soaking black sweater, briefly visible against pale, scarred torso when he tugs up the hem of his shirt to stash the goods.
"Let's make a deal. I don't tell anyone about our little treasure chest, and neither do you. We hide anything we can't grab under a sheet of ice, and come back for what's left after we restore power."