How to Catch a Thief (sneak peak)

INTRO

HEADS UP:

I've taken a bit of creative liberty with the fictional world that Thief takes place in, absorbing it into the real Victorian Europe with some added content here and there as well as some things changed. Those things will be made clearer within the story.

Enjoy!

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Delicate boots pacing back and forth on the cobblestone street matched the rhythm of the stopwatch in her partner's hand.

"It's been fifteen minutes, I don't think the stars aligned on this one," a man told her with doubt and a proper English accent.

"Thomas, my calculations—"

"Assumptions," he corrected.

"They were correct. I am sure of it," the young woman replied in a matching accent, speaking sternly to him, despite her small stature.

"Are you ever going to doubt your own ability?" he asked, the cuff of his top hat shadowing over his eyes as it caught the gentle drops of water that fell every so often.

"When I'm wrong, I will," she said with her chin high.

"Oh God, Miss Everheart, you are far too humble for your own good."

She turned to him. "The last time this shop was robbed it was done so by a Mr. Adams who we brought into custody two months ago. The reason for his capture? Mrs. Bates' very helpful guard dog gave him a nasty scar on his ankle. Mr. Adams had taken a few poor men under his generous wing. A lonely Mr. Cott, a gambling Mr. Higgins, and finally a rascal of a man called Hamish Hayward. Yes, the same man who is here tonight. Why tonight? Because Hamish has a problem keeping up with taxes and tomorrow is his deadline to get them turned in. He would have enough time to get the stolen goods fenced for a good price and fix his mistake. Not to mention there are more than one person on the wrong side of the law that he has borrowed money from who are getting particularly impatient. Mr. Haward also left his cat outside about ten minutes ago which is something he only does when he's not at home. And finally, Mrs. Bates' lovely guard dog was killed tragically in a carriage accident yesterday. It was in the papers this morning. But before she can purchase a new one, it leaves her vulnerable to one night of all the stealing one can attempt."

He sighed and relented, smirking a bit as he looked away from her.

"Hand me your cane." She held out her gloved hand to him.

"What?" he asked with confusion.

"Oh don't play daft it's not a good color on you—"

"I'm not playing anything—"

"Just do it and trust me for once."

He rolled his eyes and did as she asked, looking away when she took it from him.

"And call me Amelia. You're family now after all," she remarked as she walked over to stand under the back window of the two story jewelry shop.

"I don't think it would be proper in public," he said with judgment.

"Are you accusing me of not being proper?" she asked with offense as she knelt down to hold the cane out horizontally at knee level.

"No, I wouldn't dream of it. You who likes everything just so..." he smarted off to her as he shut the pocket watch and slid it back into his overcoat.