Banksy was not the most athletic person. He wasn't even the second or third most athletic person. When push came to shove, he far preferred to use his brains than his brawn, not that he had all that much brawn to begin with.

Despite the many hours of training Servilia, and later Lexi, had put him through, he simply wasn't a natural born fighter. He didn't enjoy any part of it really. He saw no point in spending time learning a sword when he could be perfecting his cracking skills. If things went his way, he wouldn't even have to worry about using a sword.

Because of this line of thinking, growing up in the guild Banksy had never been picked first for many team events. Usually he dawdled somewhere near the back of the queue, waiting to be picked, or preferably, sitting in the stands and watching. He usually liked it that way, staying out of the spotlight, just like a good thief should. The less people noticed him, the better.

Now, as he was standing alone, the final man waiting to be called to meet the Widow Black, he wished someone had noticed him sooner for once. Romeo had been called a few minutes after Cross, and then what seemed like only seconds later the next suitor had been called up. Sometimes the wait time was long, other times it was shorter, but long or short the time had added up and Banksy had grown anxious. The second to last suitor had now surpassed twenty minutes.

"Maybe they forgot me," Banksy mumbled to himself. He glanced around the empty room, his eyes lingering on each door. They were locked, he knew, but none of them were very good locks. He could probably get through any of them in less than a breath. But what would be the point of that?

His fingers curled around the stone in his pocket. He had no idea where Cross or Romeo even were. He could contact them with his Phoenix Stone, but considering he hadn't been contacted yet it didn't seem necessary. Plus, he wasn’t sure if he could handle Romeo teasing him about losing his nerve.

Banksy nearly jumped when the stone suddenly grew warm and he heard Lexi's voice.

“The Widow Black has expelled Cross from the premises.”

"What?"

“Cross got kicked out.”

"Why?"

“He's not entirely sure. Romeo hasn't checked in yet, so I assume he is still there.”

"Uh." Banksy looked around the empty room. "I really can't say. He went to meet her a while ago and hasn't come back."

“Very well. Keep in touch.”

"Will do," Banksy said and let go of the stone.

Another thirty minutes passed at an excruciatingly lethargic pace and Banksy's anxiety faded away to boredom. With very little to do he began to walk around the room, finally pausing when he found a large spider web nestled away in in the corner. It was a surprising find in such a well-kept manor.

The web was quite elaborate, with strands of silk running in shocking complex patterns. Banksy had read once that the patterns could attract the attention of prey that would fly into the web, only to be caught and later devoured.

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“I respect the planning,” Banksy said with a small nod to himself. “Execution sounds a bit brutal, though.”

He ran his eyes over the entirety of the web. The spider itself didn’t seem to be present, and for that Banksy was somewhat glad. While he wouldn’t say he was terrified of spiders, the way in which they moved, legs scuttling in quick, jerky movements, made his skin crawl.

“See something you like?”

Banksy jolted and swept his head to the side to find the Widow Black standing beside him, her dark eyes staring up at the spider's web, a faint smile on her face.

Banksy swallowed hard and turned his eyes back to the web. “I guess. It’s impressive, what they can do. I mean, I don’t think I could make something like that, especially not with any tools. Even with tools. To do something like this without ever really being taught… That’s pretty special.”

“A good answer.” Lilith nodded. "I’ve always found these webs to be beautiful, myself. Would you say you have an eye for beauty?"

Banksy turned to look at her. She was staring directly at him, her large dark eyes boring into his. He hesitated. "I… Uh…"

She tilted her head. "Yes?"

"I don't think I would say I have an eye for beauty, but I do know what I like and what I don't like."

Lilith stared at him for a long time before lifting up her hand and hiding a smile. "What an honest answer. Usually a suitor would tell me yes, and that I am the most beautiful thing he has ever beheld."

"But you're not a thing," Banksy said with a slight furrow of his brow.

Lilith's smile grew. "An even better answer. I wonder, would you accompany me on a walk? I've been stuck in a stuffy room for the better part of the day and I believe the night air would be good for me."

Banksy hesitated only a moment before extending his arm to her, just as Servilia had taught him. Lilith smiled and slipped her arm into his and led him through the winding hallways of the manor. Though it was difficult with a beautiful woman lightly holding onto his arm, one that smelled intoxicatingly good, Banksy did his best to memorize everything he saw as he walked.

"You'll have to excuse how untidy the garden is," Lilith said as she led them out into the courtyard and swept her hand towards the flowerbeds. Large vines, heavy with thorns nearly as long and thick as Banksy's fingers jutted out from the soil and onto the path. Some had even begun to grow up the walls of the manor. "An invasive species, you see. Once it takes root it is extremely hard to ever remove. Do you know what it's called?"

Banksy shook his head.

"The King of Thorns," Lilith said as she released Banksy's arm. Carefully she bent down and touched one of the long thorns, running her finger delicately along the spine. "It produces no flowers or fragrance. No fruit or nectar. It exists only to destroy others. A predator in every sense of the word."

Her voice had dropped to a whisper and Banksy found himself leaning closer. "Can you get rid of it?”

"I don’t believe so, no. It will strangle everything around it and creep into every crevice, hiding in shadows. You only hope that it gives up before everything you hold dear is destroyed." Lilith sighed before letting out a soft laugh. "But listen to me, acting so dramatic. The flowers may die, but they are replaceable. Everything can be replaced, with time and effort, don't you think?"

"Maybe," Banksy frowned as he pressed his boot against one of the thorns. It held his weight for a moment before cracking under the pressure. "But maybe it's better to fight back instead of just hoping blindly. Nothing changes if you don't at least try."

Lilith stood back up slowly. "That's quite profound. Could it be you are a poet at heart?"

Banksy had to repress a snort. Romeo was the poet. He was just a simple thief and he was out of his element in this situation. "I don't think so."

"A shame. Even so, you are quite interesting Mr. Bank. One of the most interesting men I have had the pleasure of meeting today. Perhaps the most. But the question remains…. Are you interesting enough?"

Banksy tilted his head. "I really don't know how to ansumph-"

Banksy's eyes went wide as Lilith swept forward and pressed her lips against his for a brief moment before stepping back. Banksy stared at her slack jawed.

"Yes, you…You I believe I can work with.”

“W-work with?”

“Yes.” Lilith was already walking away. She waved her hand airily over her shoulder. “That will be all for tonight, Mr. Bank. I will have one of my servants show you to your room. Please, have a pleasant rest of your evening."

Banksy didn't manage to muster up a reply until long after the Widow Black had left him alone in the courtyard. "Y-yeah. You too."