Spicy Thievery

Basil approached his shop. The sun would be setting in mere minutes and he’d just planned to stop by for a moment of peace before heading to the guild for the night. His eye caught a tall dark man sporting an eyepatch loitering near to his door. Deciding to ignore the presence of the questionable man altogether, Basil made for the door, he took out a key and aimed it for the lock. 

“Wait ter minute sir, Yer look loike a smart chap, have yer seen ter owner of this premises?” The man said rather loudly in a raspy tone that could make a man wince. 

“I am the owner.” Basil said in a hyper-contrasting timbre, soft and even, “But I'm sorry sir, The shops closed for the day.” 

Basil repaid his focus to his door and the man leaned beside it, vying for Basil’s attention. “I represent Old Chapel, in specificity I’m endeavored ter to help out some of our less fortunate disabled souls,  Would yer be int’rested in an opportun-”

Today had not been a great day for Basil. He’d had enough social engagement today to turn him sour to the idea for a week. On another day he might’ve invited the man in for a chat about what he could do for the disenfranchised, but some days you had to say no. And this was one of those. Basil spoke up, his mellow voice finding a note of stern power, it managed to combat the piercing gruffness of the alleged Old Chapel representative. “I should have been more clear, I’m not open for business today. My condolences. Another time maybe?” Before the man could retort, Basil opened the door and stepped inside, shutting the door promptly behind him. He locked it for good measure.

As he did, a chill ran through him.  He’d hoped for a moment of relief at escaping the man outside. But that was not the case… A tinge of fear struck him. He didn't understand how he knew... but there was someone beside himself in his office. 

He fought the urge to run back out the way he’d come. He counted on this place to be a personal sanctuary of sorts. He hoped to keep it that way, Plus something was… calling… tying him down, encouraging him to investigate the unknown. The self-preserving part of him decided he shouldn’t go empty handed, He quietly pulled his pistol from the drawer of his desk. He scanned the dimly lit room, finding nothing out of the ordinary right away. Basil’s shop was small and there could realistically only be one place another person could hide.  In the back room. Though his private office was dark and everything deathly quiet… he was sure. Someone was there. 

Thym? He yearned to call out. But he knew it wasn’t them. He didn’t feel this way around his apprentice, he couldn’t ever recall feeling this way… Basil shivered and stepped towards the back room. 

The door to his office was open ever so slightly, he peered through the door’s transparent glass window. It was dark but he could make out the figure of a man, crouched on the floor. The thief wasn’t watching for him though, so Basil observed as the man kneeled, hand gripped around the lock on the chest sat in front of Basil’s desk. Surely he’d heard me come in? And heard the man essentially yelling outside. Yet the Bandit was still stubbornly trying to get into his belongings… Basil guessed the thief had some misguided confidence that Basil wouldn’t come back here.

A strange sense compelled Basil to go inside, and he did. The intruder looked up at Basil with concern... but also curiosity. Basil glowered back, struggling to find the words to say in the instance. The thief, also quiet, let the lock go. Basil noticed now the state of the padlock as it broke open, heavily corroded, rusted to pieces. It hadn't been that way before. The man flashed a nervous smile. 

“What- What is going on?” Basil managed to demand.

The blonde man rose up, to a height slightly shorter than his own apprentice. “You a half?”

Basil took a step back in surprise.  “N- No…”   Was this man… breaking into his office to find evidence against him. Why would he? Unless he knew more than just his affliction… Panic lapped at the edge of Basil’s mind. 

The man tapped the side of his nose “Of course ya aren’t… Well.”  His eyes rested on the gun Basil held at his side. “Ya aren't gonna shoot me I hope.” 

With Basil blocking the only way out of his shop, the thief had nowhere to go. Not unless he forced past him. But Basil suspected the small man might get the better of him with ease. If his experiences with Thym taught him anything, it showed him that size never equated to relative danger. But he almost didn’t want the man to leave for reasons he still didn’t understand. Curiosity sure, but… satisfying that wasn’t worth his own safety. He’d give away his possessions rather than endanger himself. Only two of his possessions really mattered anyway. Maybe a few books and photos he’d hate to part with… of which consequently lived in the trunk the thief had opened.  The most valuable pieces he owned, were the in-progress and finished prosthetics for his clients. He could see clearly the man had not yet managed to whisper any of those away quite yet.

Basil realized, oddly he didn’t feel endangered by the situation. He felt intrigued and inquisitive…  And this man, if he really wanted to flee- to attack… Basil felt he would’ve likely done so by now. 

As Basil surveyed the burglar shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, he finally detected it, even in the low-lighting. The man’s hand. The hand that he'd been gripping the lock with…. It was discolored, streaked in a way that was all too familiar. The hands of a Half. “I don't want to hurt you- I... ” Basil said eventually, to answer the intruder. 

Basil had so many questions but little idea on how to begin asking given the circumstances. Would he even answer? … God he had a bad habit of making the acquaintance of ambiguous criminal types…

He decided to go for it, “What is it you did to my lock? And Why are you here? And… who?” Basil cleared the doorway as a gesture of goodwill. The man could leave if he wanted, but… Basil kind of hoped he wouldn’t. He felt his questions would be the kind to plague him if left unanswered. 

The small man’s eyes widened and he slipped for the door, but before he moved past the frame he looked back to Basil, “Er… wait 39 seconds.” 

Basil watched as he dashed out. He heard the shop door open and close. The vague chill he felt faded. He stood awkwardly, absolutely perplexed. 

Basil wondered if he should keep count… Or maybe it was a code? Who was he kidding. He surely wouldn’t be back.

…………….

The fair haired thief returned promptly and looking somewhat upset. “Bastard abandoned me.” 

“Bastard?” Basil questioned.

“Meh.” The robber shrugged, thinking better than to give away his accomplice directly… even if he was an arsehole. 

The thief pointed to Basil’s right hand.

“So explain how ya got a normal hand… being a half and all.” 

Basil couldn’t tell whether the man was adept at changing the subject, or just not generally proficient at holding a conversation. 

“Oh. That….” Basil took off his coat, which showed his arms plainly. The left had the telltale marks of a void-touched. Discolored almost withered skin, Basil’s yellowed almost golden. He wore a glove that reached well past his wrist, to further keep the malady secret. And to match, nearly his entire right arm was replaced by a mechanical marvel, a brassy golden metal. But attached to the end, was a fully flesh hand, unafflicted by the half condition.