—aka, rich people are terrifying fucking entities,
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EXT— STILL A TEA SHOP.
STILL SOMEWHERE IN ST. PETERSBURG — MID-MORNING.
SCENE I.
TOP MOST OF the con— a snitch gets blacklisted. No exceptions.
Well one if he doesn't end up in a ditch first.
Conning is a game where everyone is in the same foothold of equal— a pawn to an otherwise battle worn field of rooks, bishops, and queens. The rest of the pawns are indisposed, locked in a position where they're unable to move. Some not even realising their potential, mindlessly following where they're being herded. But some of us realise our worth; we're small, blend well, and if the time comes, can transform ourselves in front of the so-called 'greats' to snatch a few pearls. Some loose diamonds.
We can become anything.
But for that to happen, in a sea of pawns, we must have trust in each other.
A 'colleague' 'mentioning' 'me'— is a sentence with too much air quotes for a con artist to feel comfortable.
Schooling my expression immediately, I cursed myself for the semi-second slip. Then out loud through a tight voice, "Colleague?"
"Oh, he didn't tell on you!" She immediately dissuade, reading me too fast for my liking. "Rather, he barely knew you, I had to do the digging. See, I needed someone— someone that you perfectly meet the specifications of, almost too perfect really! You're a wonder." Adding a nod as if that helped being called like an exhibit to a freak show. "Now, all he knew of you was your current name and that you were in Versailles a couple of weeks back. Everything else, I had to find out on my own. Antonina La Verne though, very nice name."
My smile was more teeth than actual enamour. "Please. Do elaborate."
"On what I know about you or the job that I know you'll do?"
She looked innocent, everything about her demeanour and speech was like her pearly pink lipstick: a sheltered princess who knew the weight and symbolism of the diamond crown on her head. But blended with it was a poisonous grit that showed how much she knew she owned a throne. Used to using people, ordering them around, and cherry picking them for whatever play she needed them for. Disposing when she thought them useless with a pretty silk, handkerchief to her pearly pink lips shaped with a small 'o'.
