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girlsoloIt’s stupid, really, how Kate picks her next “victim”.
Back in the day, before the Sanctuary, she’d spend weeks casing a place, learning the routines, and she’d never go in without a plan for what to steal. Shit, she wouldn’t be doing it at all unless one of her fences couldn’t set her up with a sick deal for whatever she stole. And when she’d been running redlist? Forget about it. She didn’t get near those bitches unless she was holding all the cards and knew where the spare deck was hidden.
This one, the crazy redhead with the yard full of ridiculous traps made from odd and ends and children’s toys (the most dangerous thing in the yard isn’t even the dog, it’s the dog shit), she picked because... wait for it... because she was talking to Will, in his office, yesterday, when Kate finally found him. So, yeah, basically because Kate’s acting like third-grader with a crush.
Stupid. Obviously the woman had been there for therapy, but at home that didn’t matter. Will did his head-shrinking out in the open with the Abnormals most of the time and whenever he hung out his “The Doctor is In” sign, they all knew it meant “The Doctor is In Unless the Doc Needs Me” or maybe “Break Glass in Case of Emergency”. A partially closed door just meant knock first. Here on the island, a session and a closed door are a session and a closed door. Oh, sure, if Magnus needs him, the door would open fast enough, but not Kate or Declan or Tesla (not that she expects him to open the door for Tesla, since at home none of them can shut it fast enough to keep him out).
It’s obviously not Crazycakes’s fault that Will’s not free for all of her marooned on a desert island and Gilligan’s starting to look good needs. Kate’s not going to hurt her. Just a little light B&E to drop off something that doesn’t belong to her. She’s not even planning to steal anything.
At least she isn’t until she steps in the third pile of dog shit, nearly trips over a line of children’s pinwheels marking the perimeter of the yard under the treehouse, and then gets knocked over and licked to half to death by a dog who has to put down a set of keys to do it. That’s the last straw. Kate wipes her face in the crook of her arm, makes a licky face she’s only ever seen on Magnus’s ocicat, and climbs up into the treehouse.
Her plan had been to leave the leaf-wrapped baseball with her cutout (she was bored) ransom note that says, Please return to Dr. Will Zimmerman. There is a reward, somewhere Crazycakes couldn’t miss it. A different plan, a better and more fun one shapes itself as Kate cruises around the downstairs with the bedroom and rooms for kids.
Whatever she takes, it has to be something that won’t affect the children. It’s one thing to prank an adult. Another to take something a kid might need. Kate prowls, undisturbed, and listens for anyone else on the ladder. There’s a creak that might be company and Kate dives for the other side of the bed. She waits, quiet, until the sounds don’t repeat. Too bad she can’t hold her breath that long. Something in here smells like wet dog and that painting of Crazycakes and her family is giving Kate the creeps.
She rolls to her feet and goes to the dresser to unstopper the perfume. It’ll clear the stench and Kate won’t be nose-blind to anyone coming in after a minute or two when the receptors clear. Coffee beans would do it right away, but she’ll make do. Once she gets her fingers on the bottle, that’s it. With a lift, sometimes you just know. This is the thing, this is what she needs to take with her.
Fast enough for a marketplace swap, Kate replaces the perfume bottle with the leaf-wrapped baseball, then tucks the bottle in her pocket. She takes a good look around, up into the other floors and back down into the kids rooms, but that’s all she takes.
Once a thief, always a thief. It’s just this girl’s bottom line isn’t cash anymore.
Back in the day, before the Sanctuary, she’d spend weeks casing a place, learning the routines, and she’d never go in without a plan for what to steal. Shit, she wouldn’t be doing it at all unless one of her fences couldn’t set her up with a sick deal for whatever she stole. And when she’d been running redlist? Forget about it. She didn’t get near those bitches unless she was holding all the cards and knew where the spare deck was hidden.
This one, the crazy redhead with the yard full of ridiculous traps made from odd and ends and children’s toys (the most dangerous thing in the yard isn’t even the dog, it’s the dog shit), she picked because... wait for it... because she was talking to Will, in his office, yesterday, when Kate finally found him. So, yeah, basically because Kate’s acting like third-grader with a crush.
Stupid. Obviously the woman had been there for therapy, but at home that didn’t matter. Will did his head-shrinking out in the open with the Abnormals most of the time and whenever he hung out his “The Doctor is In” sign, they all knew it meant “The Doctor is In Unless the Doc Needs Me” or maybe “Break Glass in Case of Emergency”. A partially closed door just meant knock first. Here on the island, a session and a closed door are a session and a closed door. Oh, sure, if Magnus needs him, the door would open fast enough, but not Kate or Declan or Tesla (not that she expects him to open the door for Tesla, since at home none of them can shut it fast enough to keep him out).
It’s obviously not Crazycakes’s fault that Will’s not free for all of her marooned on a desert island and Gilligan’s starting to look good needs. Kate’s not going to hurt her. Just a little light B&E to drop off something that doesn’t belong to her. She’s not even planning to steal anything.
At least she isn’t until she steps in the third pile of dog shit, nearly trips over a line of children’s pinwheels marking the perimeter of the yard under the treehouse, and then gets knocked over and licked to half to death by a dog who has to put down a set of keys to do it. That’s the last straw. Kate wipes her face in the crook of her arm, makes a licky face she’s only ever seen on Magnus’s ocicat, and climbs up into the treehouse.
Her plan had been to leave the leaf-wrapped baseball with her cutout (she was bored) ransom note that says, Please return to Dr. Will Zimmerman. There is a reward, somewhere Crazycakes couldn’t miss it. A different plan, a better and more fun one shapes itself as Kate cruises around the downstairs with the bedroom and rooms for kids.
Whatever she takes, it has to be something that won’t affect the children. It’s one thing to prank an adult. Another to take something a kid might need. Kate prowls, undisturbed, and listens for anyone else on the ladder. There’s a creak that might be company and Kate dives for the other side of the bed. She waits, quiet, until the sounds don’t repeat. Too bad she can’t hold her breath that long. Something in here smells like wet dog and that painting of Crazycakes and her family is giving Kate the creeps.
She rolls to her feet and goes to the dresser to unstopper the perfume. It’ll clear the stench and Kate won’t be nose-blind to anyone coming in after a minute or two when the receptors clear. Coffee beans would do it right away, but she’ll make do. Once she gets her fingers on the bottle, that’s it. With a lift, sometimes you just know. This is the thing, this is what she needs to take with her.
Fast enough for a marketplace swap, Kate replaces the perfume bottle with the leaf-wrapped baseball, then tucks the bottle in her pocket. She takes a good look around, up into the other floors and back down into the kids rooms, but that’s all she takes.
Once a thief, always a thief. It’s just this girl’s bottom line isn’t cash anymore.
