The thief was almost squirming, and though it had been almost an hour, he had yet to calm down and do more than pretend to be drinking, changing out his glasses with the persons’ sitting next to him whenever something directed their attention elsewhere. Gilbert only noticed because he was too fascinated by the man to ever fully look away.

He was puzzled as to why the thief had accepted the invitation. For that matter, he was also puzzled why the Magpie had stuck around long enough to get invited in the first place. Or why the hells he even accepted disarming the traps for them. The Magpie could have torn free of Gilbert’s grip and vanished, just as he had done every other time someone had gotten close to him in the last decade of his career that Gilbert knew of. He was just thankful Milla wasn’t here. There was a chance she would recognise him by his silver eyes.

But the Magpie was stubbornly sitting there at their table at The Blind Eye, a tavern at the western wall of Draggok Hill where the Watchers from all nearby districts tended to congregate. The beer was cellar-cold, and dinner was served at daybreak after the night watch ended. The after-hours beer was traditional after a tough night. The talk had been subdued at first, everyone shaken at the sheer amount of blood rotting in the buckets under the table, worried about Ril who would surely lose his eye, and then grateful to ‘Mags’ once everyone recalled how many traps had been disarmed.

The Magpie King had just mumbled something at them, almost smiled, and clearly not known what to do with himself when all the Watchers toasted his efforts, including Watchers from other palisades than their own. And then someone at the Urod Circle table began singing the Magpie King song and everyone joined in, except the actual Magpie King, who looked even less comfortable, but now with a decidedly exasperated touch.

Frankly, it was hilarious.

But the legendary master thief of Sonderport had stewed enough and it was time to figure out why he put himself through this discomfort voluntarily.

Gilbert got up and touched the thief’s shoulder. “Give me a hand,” he said and went to the bar, hoping the Magpie would follow. He paid for a round for the Kaala table, asked for the key to the upstairs mezzanine, and gestured for the thief to follow.

The narrow upstairs meeting room ran the length of the taproom and faced the alley along the city wall, which meant the room was in perpetual shadow. The light from the taproom shone through narrow windows near the ceiling and gave a golden tint to the grey half-light in the room. There was a balcony and Gilbert went to unlock the door before putting the key on the table. He stood aside, placing himself near the wall, so the Magpie had access to both exits unhindered.

The thief stood at the door to the taproom stairs. Cautiously, he finally came in, closing the door behind him.

The noise of the taproom dimmed.

"We should talk,” Gilbert said. “I figured you would be more comfortable with more than one exit." He saw the thief nod slowly and his grey gaze held Gilbert’s.

“That’s kind of you.” The Magpie King narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What do you want, Watcher?”

Gilbert laughed softly. “You know that’s the second time you’ve asked me that, right?”

Gilbert quickly raised his hands in an apologetic gesture when the thief took a few steps closer and his dark brows drew together like a sudden thundercloud, frustration radiating from him like heat from a forge.

“How did you find me to begin with? Why did you help me? Why didn’t you turn me in tonight? How long is this amnesty going to last? What are you up to!” the thief hissed, hands clenched.

“Why have you been following me?” Gilbert countered calmly. “Why did you agree to go into the house? Why did you stick around afterwards? Why did you agree to come here? Don’t you just love that Magpie-song?”

“That stupid name is not my doing! It has nothing to do with me,” the thief said with emphasis and pointed at Gilbert as he stomped closer, almost close enough that Gilbert could reach out and touch the man.

The silver eyes were furious, and the pale cheeks had a bit of colour now. It reminded Gilbert of having pressed a finger to his lip as it healed. He was the reason there was no scar. Actually, he was most likely the reason the thief was even alive right now. He’d had free-roam of his strong, wiry body while he lay there, unconscious in his bed… and that was definitely not something he should be thinking about right now.

“Look,” Gilbert said and slowly lowered his hands, taking a step back to lean against the wall. “I’m not your enemy. Let’s just have a calm conversation, alright?”

“Sure, you are not my enemy, but for how long? How long is this bizarre reprieve going to last?” the thief demanded, retreating a bit and lowering his hand too.

“Forever, if you tell me what to call you.” The words left his mouth without permission before he could stop them. It was a potentially dangerous promise, but now it was a fact. The thief was still bristling with distrust and Gilbert kept a grin in check. “I understand that mentioning a certain bird in your presence isn’t welcome, so give me an alternative?”

The thief looked at him for a long while, tense shoulders gradually lowering. “Temple,” he said.

Puzzled, Gilbert looked at him.

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“My name is Temple. That’s all you get, Watcher.”

“Gilbert,” he insisted. “Please? Let’s be civil to each other.”

“Fine, Gilbert. Now tell me how you planned what happened at the house. Why did you do that to me? What did you do?” the thief asked and went to lean on the doorframe to the balcony, arms crossed, long fingers curling around his upper arms, too tense to be casual.

“I… what? What do you mean? …Please don’t think I had anything to do with the murders. Or harming one of my own people. The absolute only reason I can’t get rid of that case is because I am – for some reason – the only one Barlik will talk to. Crazy-talk to, if I’m being precise. I have nothing to do with him, his murders, or his house.”

“Oh no, Gilbert, did I offend you?”

“Yes, Temple, you did,” he confirmed. “But I did notice that you seemed …uncomfortable when you opened the door for me back at the house,” Gilbert said in as calm and soothing a tone as he could. “What happened to you in there?”

Temple’s inner struggle was plain on his features, even though he looked away as it raged. It was oddly soothing to know the man wouldn’t be able to lie. And incredibly strange to know that a criminal of his magnitude hadn’t picked up the skill to hide his thoughts. Was he from a comfortable background, surrounded by people he trusted? Something about that assumption seemed powerfully unlikely, considering how skittish and suspicious he was.

Temple finally looked up, having lost the battle against his distrustfulness. “I was seen,” he said softly, and there was a distinct note of fear in his voice. “Something in there saw me.”

“There was an accomplice in there?” Gilbert asked, not quite sure what to make of the statement.

“No. Not something living in that sense.” Temple obviously searched for a better explanation, his long hands clenching and relaxing in turn. “The darkness was alive.” He looked away, seeming a bit exasperated with himself.

“Like magic?” Gilbert asked.

“Sort of. Maybe.” The thief shrugged his slender shoulders.

“I thought you couldn’t be tracked with magic or scryed upon?” Gilbert realised his mistake the second he spoke the question. Temple’s eyes grew wary and heated again, and he stared furiously at him.

“What have you had to scry with, Watcher?” he snapped. “I’m a professional. I don’t leave anything behind.”

“Sorry,” Gilbert held his hands up again, feeling like he was back to the beginning once more.

Everything with this man was like trying to coax a wild cat to trust you. Scraps of lizard meat only went so far. No matter how hungry the cat was, self-preservation was the first order of business.

“The Office of the Nine granted the funds for licenced magical assistance. It was just after the Office decided to wipe you off on me, so about four years ago. The mage claimed he could track you on things you had touched when you stole some document or other, but it didn’t work. He claimed he made contact with you, but that there was just nothing to see for some reason. He couldn’t track you.”

Temple seemed to relax a little, but his long fingers tightened around his upper arms. “What are you up to, Gilbert?” he finally asked. “You of all people know exactly what I’m worth. Are you really surprised that I’m ready to run?”

…Fair enough. Most people would probably not let a fortune of this size go, Gilbert thought. “I’m not up to anything. You’re the one who’s been following me, remember? Why were you at the house today?” he asked gently.

“To figure out what you are up to. Again, Gilbert, I know my worth. What you did does not make sense.” It was an antagonistic couple of sentences, but some of the venom had finally gone out of him.

“Alright. But then, try to flip that around for a moment. I would have had nobody qualified to help us tonight if you hadn’t been there. If I hadn’t repaid your kindness with the same coin, my people would have been even more injured than was the case; some maybe even dead,” he said slowly.

Temple pushed away from the doorframe and came closer, cautious, holding Gilbert’s gaze. Very, very slowly, he reached out and placed one hand first, then the other on the wall on either side of Gilbert’s head and stood there, an arm’s length from him.

Gilbert couldn’t move, afraid to startle the thief and have him run off forever. Temple was not quite as tall as him, so the thief slowly raised himself on tiptoe to bring them at eye height. Gilbert could feel the ghost of his breath on his skin, and then the thief’s gaze flicked to his lips and back up again a split second later. He didn’t dare move or speak. He tried desperately to control his furiously beating heart and fast breath.

Very, very slowly, Temple bent his arms, bringing their faces closer… and then the hot tip of his tongue quickly licked Gilbert’s lower lip, then the upper, making him gasp. His entire body quickened in exquisite attention, while he still fought not to make any sudden moves.

Temple retreated a little, pupils so large that the silver was just a thin ring of colour. Gilbert dared a tiny nod of his head and the thief leaned closer again, head tilted a little to the side, until their lips were so close but just exactly not touching.

The hesitation was maddening, erotic and enticing, and Gilbert fought to remain still despite his frantic heartbeat, while he felt Temple’s warm, excited breath mingle with his own. Then finally, after an eternity of almost painful arousal, their lips met in a soft, gasping touch. It was only for a few moments before Temple withdrew a little, breathless.

Gilbert slowly reached up and put a hand on the thief’s cheek. “Please don’t run,” he said softly.

Temple quickly grabbed his hand and pushed it to lie around the back of his neck. Gilbert happily held him as directed. Then Temple’s hands grabbed his hips and their lips met again with a hunger Gilbert had never felt before. His entire body ached with longing, and he pulled the thief as close as he could be, tasting his hot, eager tongue.

He had no idea how long they had been pressing close to each other, lost in the kiss, when a crash of splintering mugs sounded from the taproom, and Temple jumped away, eyes wide. There was a short second of silence but then laughter and talking carried on from downstairs.

“Don’t run,” Gilbert repeated, still winded and almost dizzy from the kiss. He held out his hand, palm up to be as unintimidating as possible.

Temple retreated, taking a deep breath.

There was a look of both awe and terror in his eyes, and Gilbert knew it wasn’t likely that he would stay. “Give me a way to contact you. Please. Don’t just vanish,” he said softly.

“There is no way to contact me,” he said, slowly walking backwards towards the door to the stairs.

“Then… don’t stop following me,” Gilbert said, suddenly exasperated.

“I’ll think about it.” Temple stared at him, eyes wide, clearly shocked. Then he quickly threw something onto the table, turned, and ran down the stairs; presumably back to the shadows he came from.

It didn’t make sense to run after him. Temple was fleeing, just like he did last time. But at least this time, they had gotten a lot closer.

Temple…

Gilbert leaned his head back on the wall and exhaled. His erection was downright painful, and his hands were trembling. No doubt his arousal would be obvious, so he needed a moment to get himself together before going back down. When his breath finally calmed down a little, he noticed what Temple had thrown on the table and barked a laugh. His coin purse.

Served him right for kissing a thief.