The Curiosity & The Cat {Bette, Larceny, & Auto // Blitz}

[Cameo {RIP Charlie}]

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Curiosity sparks against the interest of my irises, steady concentration taming them to a specific area of studying. A stranger of companion, known as Bette Sublino from District One, delves her diligent fingers within a craft foreign to us twins. Such a talent as this had never even been considered for the training of a Theft child. Stealth was the sole skill taught for escape from an undesired encounter. Any items left behind in a victim location would leave evidences to our whereabouts and personality, making traps a forbidden tool to use within a mission. But there’s no neglecting that the art that’s kindling from Bette’s own fingertips is intriguing to say the least.

An agreement framed between the three of us - a trap for us in return for a favor down the line for her. There’s an uncertainty if this beauty of a weapon will even be put to use, while profit roams from it nonetheless. My vision inspects from a close distance, temping to memorize the intelligence creating such a piece. Perhaps this information will be keen in the coming times, while learning of the Arena’s company surely will be.

“So what’s your history with knowing how to make traps anyways?” Questions in a brew of wonder rather then accusation, though an investigation has been placed upon all and any since my name was called for this place. “Is it just a career thing y’all do in District One?” Genuine interest curls the likes of my words, while my eyes search for so much more. Will her features scrunch just slightly in distaste for such curiosity? Will her pupils enlarge in preparation to conceal the truth? Perhaps her irises will gleam with a joyful recollection of her homeland? A plethora can be told by a mere conversation, especially within key aspects they lay beneath the mere vocalization.

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[shrimp]

The lighting is wrong. Her basement studio, wracked with cracks in the walls and a draft that chills her to the bones, is always just a little too dark; but the light is warm unlike the brightness in these workrooms. It's easier to find her way, know which end of the blade is the one she should be touching, but it's too clinical - the feeling isn't the same.

And their faces are a little too close for comfort - the only people who've really seen her work are her father and Hedy, but her father was a mentor and Hedy her somewhat unwilling pupil. Clients however, are never allowed a glimpse into the inner sanctum, and when they've requested it she's either ignored the ask completely or left it to Margot to hash out those minutiae.

The twins - and this circumstance, she supposes - are strange. Their mannerisms, like cats stretching out in the sun, are almost lackadaisical. And their quips are too tight, like sword fighers who've memorized each other's dance - it's hardly a battle then. But it feels like both pairs of eyes are burning into her back, Auto Grand Theft's hair nearly dangling in Bette's periphery.

She almost laughs at Auto's question. A snide thought of One runs through her head - not even from arrogance, but from objectivity. District One wishes they knew how to teach this. But she pauses, letting the right words roll about in her tongue like the hard candy she's taken to trying in the dining hall.

"It's a practiced thing," she says, her eyes not looking up from the delicate placement of scraps. she clarifies: "Takes time to learn, but when you get it right-"

Bette holds up the finished product - a sculpture of an apple, spherical and gold in the light. She tests the contraption, twisting the stem and watching its slivers curve, an aperture revealing the core. "It's an occupation."

She turns to the twins, looking each one in the eye. "It'll only last once - twice if you're careful. But it'll work."