"Chaos abhors order," Tim said in a low voice that suggested he may be talking to himself. He had moved over to a low desk and pulled open the top drawer. Inside was a ball made of rubber bands. It made him smirk slightly because it was the type of time wasting busy work he would indulge in himself at the office. Without thinking, Tim reached for the ball, it could be fun to play wit...
Waiting on the back patio, listening to Mozzie and Elizabeth talking, the double click of Elizabeth locking the back door, then Mozzie smoothly unlocking it. Not much longer and they were both out the door, the alarm beeping out its countdown.
It was laughably easy. Satchmo was happy to see him, as he glided across the space between the backdoor and the alarm pad.
Great. Even betraying the dog.
The unfolded quickly from there, bringing with it the emotional warring within. That manifest was freedom, but it was also its own jail. Taking it, executing the score it would gain him all the money but would lock him into this life of crime for the duration. At the same time there was the thrill of doing what is impossible, of seeing artwork that no one has laid eyes on in almost half a century.
For every pro there is a con. The scales equally balanced with Mozzie on one side, Peter on the other. Either choice he makes will be a betrayal of a friend.
Tim crashed back into the present with a jolt that saw him instinctively stepping back. Except he was clumsy with his injuries, having to throw out a hand to catch himself and in that awkward moment, the ball slipped from his hands.
"Damn it," he gasped, turning and trying to catch it with his foot but the warped floor had the ball heading for the hole. Neal might catch a glimpse of it before it fell into the darkness but there would be no chance to retrieve it.
Let me know if this isn't okay and I'll edit!
Waiting on the back patio, listening to Mozzie and Elizabeth talking, the double click of Elizabeth locking the back door, then Mozzie smoothly unlocking it. Not much longer and they were both out the door, the alarm beeping out its countdown.
It was laughably easy. Satchmo was happy to see him, as he glided across the space between the backdoor and the alarm pad.
Great. Even betraying the dog.
The unfolded quickly from there, bringing with it the emotional warring within. That manifest was freedom, but it was also its own jail. Taking it, executing the score it would gain him all the money but would lock him into this life of crime for the duration. At the same time there was the thrill of doing what is impossible, of seeing artwork that no one has laid eyes on in almost half a century.
For every pro there is a con. The scales equally balanced with Mozzie on one side, Peter on the other. Either choice he makes will be a betrayal of a friend.
Tim crashed back into the present with a jolt that saw him instinctively stepping back. Except he was clumsy with his injuries, having to throw out a hand to catch himself and in that awkward moment, the ball slipped from his hands.
"Damn it," he gasped, turning and trying to catch it with his foot but the warped floor had the ball heading for the hole. Neal might catch a glimpse of it before it fell into the darkness but there would be no chance to retrieve it.