[Not-So-Merry Prankster] Trixa: A wildfire, wildcard

[girlsolo]

It’s no trouble to find out where Trixa lives. Magnus doesn’t suspect she’s looking to cause any trouble. Of course she only wants to know where Trixa lives to take her this sick leather vest the clothing box coughed up as a thanks for helping her adjust. It might even be true that’s the reason she wants to know. Or she might be wanting to be sitting on the porch when Trixa gets home from her shift at the Winchester to see if she’ll get an invite inside for a drink and not talking. That might be true too.

Point is, when Kate smiles and her eyes light up with please and thank you, there’s no reason for Magnus to think she’s up to anything at all. Even Kate can be nice.

Can be, but she’s not nice. She’s never been nice. That doesn’t mean she’s planning to hurt Trixa. She’s not. As far as it goes, Kate likes her. She’d do her in a hot minute, but she doesn’t think Trixa swings her way. Or if she does, not her way. No harm, no foul. She’s not a jilted suitor, either. Kate just wants to see if she can find out a little more about the bartender whose name sounds like a tongue twister and reminds her of a story she’s long since forgotten. Out of everyone she’s met but Coraline, Trixa knows the most.

Kate wants to know what she knows. She just wants to learn it without Trixa to mediate it. Nothing like a little light B&E for shaking out intel.

She comes by early, sees a hot hot blond guy who moves like skin over stone, marks him as interesting, and walks on through like she’s getting some exercise. The only deviation is a stop to scratch the ears of a cat who hisses at her. It’s a perfect opportunity to check out the yards that she needs to navigate in the dark.

Normally, on an op, she’d dress in thief’s black and make herself invisible against the dark sky, but the island’s a small town and late walks or missing pets or fights with boyfriends or new and lost or looking for my friend are completely normal and expected. She doesn’t sneak to New Bohemia (really?) when it gets late. Kate takes the bottle Sam brought her that she didn’t drink with Will because he wasn’t there and walks straight in like she’s visiting there.

No one stops her. No one’s out and about. She slips in through the front door of Trixa’s hut, unobserved, and finds a kitchen. Interesting but Trixa doesn’t strike her as the “keeps weapons grade plutonium in the flour canister” type. Kate pokes around (with her gloves on so she doesn’t leave prints) but it’s mostly enlightening on what Trixa likes to eat. Or what she does eat. Likes to, she’d probably need to see her kitchen at home for that.

The next room’s a bedroom. Much more interesting. After inspecting the pillow for any black hairs, Kate stretches out on the bed and looks around the room. Most people put the important stuff in a room where they can touch it or see it from their most comfortable position. She rolls up, straightens the covers, and checks the pillow for her own hair (black, so it’s probably not a big deal if she sheds, but if Trixa’s as much like her as she thinks, it’s not out of the question that she’s got time-honored low-tech defenses like specifically placed hairs, dust rings, and that kind of crap to protect her things) and doesn’t find any.

She skims the headboard with her hands to search out hidden compartments. None.

She looks under the bed, finds a shotgun and some cases labeled liquor. Kate checks those, and checks the bottles for Tesla’s trick. Nothing, but she’s way tempted by the shotgun.

There’s a crossbow on the wall, a handgun in the drawer of the bedside table, another weapons cache, but a whole lot of nothing useful to Kate if she’s not planning to steal.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. This whole time, Kate’s told herself that she’d find something. Some clue. Some explanation. Something Trixa didn’t tell her. But there’s nothing.

When she picks up a pillow to muffle a scream of frustration, she finds the feather. Kate knows enough stories to know it matters. It’s a bad idea to take it. A really bad idea. See above. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Kate picks it up carefully, not touching the plumes at all or the quill with her fingers or even with the gloves but using the silk scarf she wore in. It’s almost reverent the way she wraps the feather in the scarf.

Trixa’s as close to a friend as she’s got on the island. Of course friends are people who stab you in the back later rather than sooner, but she’s not in a rush for that betrayal. Maybe if she’s friends with Magnus it might not happen.

And Kate’s not betraying her. It’s actually sort of a compliment. One con to another. It’s a message. I was here. I took something of yours. I’m gone. A message like that almost always implies a return where Kate comes from. It’s a game.

Or it will be, by tomorrow. And she will give Trixa the leather vest. Just not yet.