Where: Chandler Court
When: May 10, 2012; Evening
What: An old friend calls up a man of some talent for a favor…
It was a simple enough phone call. Amy, a local showgirl, as he knows her, locked herself out of her house and just needed a little help out. And apparently trusts him more than the local locksmith, who she insisted was a creeper.
Out in Chandler Court, it's not the sort of place a showgirl'd be likely to live. A little posh. But you knows. Amy sits out on the front porch of the address she gave him, her hair dyed jet black— last time he saw her, it was bright blue. But that was several months ago. A backpack sits at her feet, resting against a pair of biker boots. Probably means the motorcycle sitting out on the street is hers. The helmet hanging of the seat is just as flashy as he's always known her to be. Some things don't change!
Hey, sometimes showgirls have somethin' somethin' on the side to bring up their living expenses. Kai's car can be heard from a few blocks away. It's amazing the thing is running, from the sounds of it. But hey, his other car got totalled by a bus. This is all he could afford while waiting on insurance. He pulls up to the curb and pushes open the door. He's wearing a pair of aviators, blue jeans, a collared shirt and a blazer. "Amy?"
The woman's lips spread into a smile as he gets out of the car. She even gets up to come greet him with a hug and a kiss to his cheek. "Hello, sweetie," she says in that familiar, sultry tone she likes to use. "Been a while. You still look good, though." She gives him a quick wink before stepping back again, toward the house.
"Can you believe this, didn't even notice I didn't have the key until I got to the door. Must be the desert heat getting to me." She picks up her backpack to fling over a shoulder before she turns to look back at him. "Must have left them with my feather headdress," she says, complete with her hands lifting to mimic how it sits on her head.
Kai is a con. He's grown up in Vegas. That's made him a cynical bastard. He nods towards the house and looks back at her. He pushes his sunglasses up onto his head. "So, this is your house? Nice digs. How long have you been here?"
"Few months now. Took a bit of a hiatus, had an opportunity show up," Amy says with a lift of her eyebrows. Whatever the opportunity was, it must have been good. "So, here I am. For as long as it lasts." She doesn't usher him toward the front door, but leans against a porch post, waiting, but not impatiently.
Kai folds his arms over his chest. His brows lift. "Amy. Is this an ex's house? Is there something you want in there? Are you a cat burglar now? I mean, call me an untrustworthy cynic. But you know I'm good with locks. And you call me up out of the blue after all this time?"
Amy opens her mouth to protest, but instead, she lets out a heavy sigh. "Okay, yes. But I'm not stealing, I swear. I just need to get in and grab my things that I left and then get out of here. It's all gotten messy and I just want my stuff and have done with him and I'll owe you so big, Kai." At least she has the grace to look embarrassed about trying to con the conman. "You know I'm good for a favor."
Kai shifts his hands to rest on his hips. He lifts one eyebrow and searches her face. "Look. I don't even really care. If you're stealing something, I'd want a cut. If you really are just getting your stuff back, I'd settle for a drink. You don't have to put energy into trying to lie to me." He is…not the most moral of individuals. Hitting rock bottom kind of changes your scale of right and wrong.
"Right. Sorry. A drink, then." Amy still looks sheepish, but at least there's a hint of a smile there now. "I just didn't want you to think— Well. I could have chosen my boyfriends a little better, is all." Her thumbs hook into her belt loops, her glance falling to her shoes. She very nearly manages to hide the frown that comes to her face there. Very nearly.
Kai glances from the door back to Amy. "He's married, isn't he?" Kai reaches into his pocket and pulls out a glove. Who has gloves in Vegas? Someone who's gotten smart about this lockpicking business. Then he makes his way up the walk and glances around to make sure no one's watching. "C'mon. I'm going to unlock this door and get back in my car. You can buy me the drink later."
Glancing up at that question, Amy grimaces slightly. "Alright, smarty," is what she ends up saying. Like she can't actually answer. "Stop probing at me and I'll buy you two drinks." It's a tease, but her tone seems to hover a little too close to sullen all the same. She doesn't watch, her attention turning outward toward the street while he works.
Kai suspects there's more to this than meets the eye. But he's fairly used to minding his own business. So, glove on hand, he gives the doorknob a few jiggles and sharp tugs. It yields and he pushes it open gently, just far enough to prove it's open. "There. Go get your panties back." And then he's heading back for his car.
Just as he's turning back to head away from the door, there's the sound of another car approaching. Amy's eyes widen before she grabs Kai rather impulsively and gives him a shove toward the door. It opens it wider, but there's barely time for a breath before she follows him in and slams the door behind them.
"Shit." Her eyes close for a sec, but she takes a moment to lock the door again before grabbing his hand and starts leading them through the house. It's a nice place. Plenty of finery. Pictures of a man at least ten years older than her and a woman much better suited to his economic status sit framed here and there, but they all look more posed than truly sentimental. It's clean, too, which probably means there are no kids in the mix, no pets that couldn't be shoved into a cage or a tank.
And it's only a few moments before they can hear the garage door start to open. She's guiding them away from that noise, though.
Kai startles. It takes him a few seconds for him to catch up, and by then, he's being led through the house. "Oh, lord. This is what I get for doing favours for old friends. Amy. We're in the man's house. Going deeper into the house is not going to get us out of here any easier." He's speaking in a hushed whisper. "Let's get out through the front while he's in the garage."
"Three drinks, then," Amy says, instead of something sensible, like an apology or just turning around and getting them out of there. "I can't just leave," she says in a whisper, "We'll be gone in… ten seconds, promise." Whatever it is, it's more important than panties. Honestly, though, does she even bother with those?
She seems to know where she's going, though, as she picks a door to open up and slide into. She doesn't tug him along this time, but with the garage door starting to close in the background, she holds it open for him to come along.
It turns out to be an office, mahogany desk, leather, high back chair, nice and fancy. And at least there's a window. But she doesn't go for the window, she goes for the safe in the corner. It's either good or bad news that she actually does know the combination.
Kai allows himself to be tugged along. He scrubs his face and whispers, "If you know the combination, why did you drag me in here?" He's a con with a self-preservation instinct. She might be able to explain this away if she really did have an affair with this man. He can't. He heads for the window.
"Oh…" Amelia lifts her head from the lock, her expression wincing for the obvious mistake. "I panicked." Which is obvious enough.
When she pops the safe open, he can see there's plenty in there to steal if that's what she was here for. Things probably worth more than her yearly wage as a showgirl. But, she reaches in and plucks out a manilla folder of papers. Important, sure, but hardly as tempting as the glittering bits and bobs that sit with it.
"Asshole. Doesn't even change the code," she mutters to herself, slipping the papers into her back pack before she swings the safe shut again and gets to her feet. There's a little nervous chuckle from her as the door starts to slide open.
Normally, a safe full of goodies would be very enticing to Kai. But with his abilities, there are easier and more tempting targets than a safe in someones' home. And yes, he's out the window pretty quick. Dickishly leaving her behind? Maybe. He's no hero. It's not like he closes the window behind him. Besides, how would it help her if they both get caught?
Amy's butt is on the window sill when he gets the door open. From outside Kai can hear him starting to yell at her to get out, something about calling the cops, the normal bits of outrage. But when she starts to run, she's pretty quick on her feet, catching up to the thief and passing him up to scale the fence between the backyard and the front yard. But she does pause at the top to offer him a hand over. Apparently she considers herself more spry that him.
But she bolts again once she hits the grass on the other side and there's a laugh from her, even when the front door swings open and the man emerges with a gun. Shots ping off of things far to close to both of them on the rush across the lawn to their respective vehicles.
"I seem to recall our last meeting involved guns too! I knew I shouldn't have answered your…oh, shit!" ting! A bullet comes too close for comfort. Kai rounds his car and jumps in the driver's side. He starts his car without keys and slams his foot on the gas. If she and her bike end up ahead, he'll tail her.
"That's why you like me! The excitement!" Amy has to duck and weave herself to stay away from those close calls, but she hops on her bike, grabbing her helmet, but not putting it on just yet. No, she favors getting the bike started and heading off as well. She ends up behind him while the bullets ping against the road behind them and finally taper off. When she comes up along side him, she gives him a little salute before veering off. When he follows, she doesn't seem to mind.
Kai follows for awhile, but if she seems like she's trying to lose him, or if traffic gets thick, he'll break off. He does fumble for his cell phone to fire off a text. 'What's in the envelope, Amy? I'll take that answer over the dozen drinks you now owe me.'
It's traffic that breaks them up rather than her deliberately trying to lose him. But when the text comes in, it isn't long before she replies. Which is probably extremely dangerous, all things considered, but she never has been bothered by a little danger.
'I'd rather owe you TWO dozen drinks. But thanks, sweetie. Call me!'
