#im a writer for someone tho :D and im helping conceptualise ideas

[raineandsky]

#67

The hero can hear the museum alarms wailing despondently even from outside. They thank the agency driver before getting out of the car, surveying the area. It all looks fine at the front. The criminal must have gotten in through the back somewhere.

They make their way to the rear, pleased to find a catering door swinging open in the late-night breeze. They trundle in, unbothered. It’s odd being in such a tourist trap so late, seeing it so empty. Everything seems to be intact. They’re not entirely sure what they’re really looking for.

Then—out the corner of their eye, a figure darting across a corridor nearby. Their head snaps to the side, peering through the slowly blinking red lights. Then another; a person staggers unmistakably across the gap in the corridor.

“Hey!” the hero shouts, even though they shouldn’t. They dart down the corridor, skidding to a halt at the end and quickly checking their chances of success.

Two are making their getaway in the direction they were expecting. Three more that hadn’t the time to cross are fleeing in the opposite direction. Whatever happens, the hero isn’t going to win this one.

They start after the closest person, lagging behind the rest a little. A giant vase clamped in their arms is dangerously slowing them down, and the hero decides that this is going to have to be their win. 

The hero grabs a fistful of the criminal’s hoodie, earning a horrified yelp as they tug them backwards. The vase loosens from their grip and bounces off the tiled floor with surprising sturdiness.

“Alright, I’m afraid you’re under arrest,” the hero starts with a scowl, pulling the criminal around to face them. “I don’t think your friends will be too—”

The words die on their tongue when the criminal finally turns to stare up at them. Wow, they have the sweetest dark brown eyes, almost the colour of the night sky. It kind of makes the hero wish they could see the rest of them, but the black mask is obscuring the rest of their face.

“You, uh…” the hero starts awkwardly. “You have beautiful eyes.”

There’s a slightly confused crease in the criminal’s brow. That’s fair, to be honest. They probably expected to be arrested, and the hero’s standing here fawning over the one feature they can see on this stranger. Embarrassing.

They realise all too late that the criminal is breaking away from them. They snap back to the present as they wring their hoodie from the hero’s grasp, and they waste no time bolting down the corridor as soon as they’re free. The hero lets them, a little startled and flustered at their own stupid thoughts.

The criminal pauses at the junction in the hall, surprised to only hear their own footsteps echoing off the walls. They turn back to stare at the hero, almost expectant, and the hero stares back until the criminal decides to make the most of their luck and flee.

The hero glances down at the vase at their feet. The agency’s going to be disappointed in one rescued valuable. It even has a crack in its side.