"Subtle. Real subtle." A cool voice from over Kabal's shoulder, Len sliding in beside him with an icy grace.
The average party-goer might be too easy a mark to notice Kabal pocketing one piece of silverware after another. To a master (anal retentive) thief like Len, Kabal's might as well be pocketing utensils with a giant red foam hand, 'AMATEUR' flashing in neon over his head.
Idiot.
This is the first Len's spoken to his not-date since they left the red carpet and grabbed their first drinks.
Coming here was a mistake. Len should've known better, and that makes him equally idiotic, or worse. He's never liked parties. He was a wallflower a kid, and a particularly vicious lone wolf as an adult.
Len doesn't do sloppy or drunk. He's better than that. Superior. Cool and in control at the best and (usually) worst of times. Watching people make fools of themselves from a safe distance, because he'd prefer to keep roaming hands off his ass and combat boots puke-free.
Shit always goes down the same way. Len shows up with someone, well, his only someone, and within ten minutes they're getting shitfaced with the rest of the crowd while Len finds a seat in the fringes and sips the same drink he'll be nursing all night, because he'll be driving himself home when said someone leaves the party with an equally shitfaced companion after setting some person/place/thing on fire.
Having watched Kabal from across the room, throwing back drinks and making the rounds while seemingly eye-fucking any quasi-sentient being with a heartbeat, everywhere but near him, tonight hasn't been any different. Right down to the arson.
Where does he find these losers?
"This is how it's done." A crystal champagne glass disappears into thin air at the blink of an eye. Len's hands move so quickly they're a blur to sober eyes. Drunks don't stand a chance.
Speaking of.
He lifts one of those fast, long-fingered hands. Holding the knife Kabal had previously pocketed.
"You steal worse than a thirteen-year-old copping a chocolate bar from Walmart for the first time." Len's dressed sharp in his blue silk suit, Japanesque in fashion, but his tongue and eyes are sharper. With every intention of cutting his victim to the quick.
1.
The average party-goer might be too easy a mark to notice Kabal pocketing one piece of silverware after another. To a master (anal retentive) thief like Len, Kabal's might as well be pocketing utensils with a giant red foam hand, 'AMATEUR' flashing in neon over his head.
Idiot.
This is the first Len's spoken to his not-date since they left the red carpet and grabbed their first drinks.
Coming here was a mistake. Len should've known better, and that makes him equally idiotic, or worse. He's never liked parties. He was a wallflower a kid, and a particularly vicious lone wolf as an adult.
Len doesn't do sloppy or drunk. He's better than that. Superior. Cool and in control at the best and (usually) worst of times. Watching people make fools of themselves from a safe distance, because he'd prefer to keep roaming hands off his ass and combat boots puke-free.
Shit always goes down the same way. Len shows up with someone, well, his only someone, and within ten minutes they're getting shitfaced with the rest of the crowd while Len finds a seat in the fringes and sips the same drink he'll be nursing all night, because he'll be driving himself home when said someone leaves the party with an equally shitfaced companion after setting some person/place/thing on fire.
Having watched Kabal from across the room, throwing back drinks and making the rounds while seemingly eye-fucking any quasi-sentient being with a heartbeat, everywhere but near him, tonight hasn't been any different. Right down to the arson.
Where does he find these losers?
"This is how it's done." A crystal champagne glass disappears into thin air at the blink of an eye. Len's hands move so quickly they're a blur to sober eyes. Drunks don't stand a chance.
Speaking of.
He lifts one of those fast, long-fingered hands. Holding the knife Kabal had previously pocketed.
"You steal worse than a thirteen-year-old copping a chocolate bar from Walmart for the first time." Len's dressed sharp in his blue silk suit, Japanesque in fashion, but his tongue and eyes are sharper. With every intention of cutting his victim to the quick.