ArchivedLogs:What Ev

What Ev
Dramatis Personae Hailey, Ion	2014-03-17 '
Location A townhouse in the UES
It's late at night -- or maybe it's early /morning/, by now, on Monday, crisp-cold in brisk end-of-winter chill and as pitch-dark as the city ever /gets/ -- which is to say, not /very/, there's still streetlamps galore, intermittent glowing signs on storefronts, warm lights flooding out of the windows of night-owls still up and about. But in between the orange-yellow glow of artificial city-light the shadows pool black and inky. Currently, the interior of one empty townhouse situated on an elegant and certainly extravagantly /expensive/ street in the Upper East Side is all darkness as well. The resident family long since flown off for an extended out-of-country spring break, the swanky home should be quiet-empty except for the glowing lights of their very expensive alarm system. Except it's a very expensive alarm system that, right now, is shorting out and dying a silent-noiseless death. There is no resulting commotion, therefore, when over by one wall there's a very small, very /brief/ blue-white light like electric sparks lighting and then dying immediately. And where once there was nothing now there is a young man, tan-skinned, dark-haired, dressed in tall sturdy-stompy steel-toe boots and dark jeans and a very /nice/ leather jacket pulled on over a blue-and-white plaid flannel shirt. He's ambling into the expansive kitchen at a leisurely pace. Opening the FRIDGE up to peer around inside and grab a beer out of its door. Hailey sighs and blows into her hands, rubbing them together to warm them up. "Damn cold..." She breathes out and closes her eyes. "I hate the city, I hate the city, I hate the city." she looks at the alley with a sigh. "Too early to head back home, let's see where I end up...somewhere warm...and ....i dunno." She shrugs and wraps her arms around her sides tightly giving a look around before walking into a wall. The transition always felt weird, like walking through syrup before having your soul ripped out and put back in. The girl steps through a shadow inside of the empty house, in a dark corner. When she opens her eyes she gives a grimace. "Damn, in a house? That doesn't happen too often..." She hmms a little bit and looks around. "Might as well check it out." She smirks deciding to take a look around. A look around would find her one Ion, his beer cracked open now. The young man has wandered off into the upstairs levels of the house and is cheerfully /rummaging/ through the contents of a jewelry box in the enormous master bedroom. He's just extracted something -- or things -- from it, leather-gloved hands stashing his /find/ into the pockets of his jacket. Hailey stands in the doorway with a little yawn. "Ya know they track fingerprints right?" She snickers a little bit and looks around. "Don't bother with any excuses, this isn't your relatives house, you're not house sitting, and this isn't your parent's bedroom and you're looking for your moms jewelry. Ion straightens with a sudden /start/, glancing up with wide-huge eyes in the dim-dark light, bedroom barely lit except for what filters in from the streetlights outside. "Hard to track fingerprints through leather gloves," he finally points out after sizing up the girl in the doorway, wiggling his beer bottle indicatively with -- still leather-gloved hand. "What's it to you, chiquita, this ain't your place neither." His words are casual, light and easy in a very heavy Latin accent. Hailey smirks a little bit. "Trust me, gloves aren't fool proof." she smiles a little bit before looking around. "Best not to overdo it, if they see too much gone they'll call the cops when they get back, and a place like this screams nanny cam." She smiles a bit before stretching out with a sigh. "So... how did you come upon this partifular...encounter?' "Naw, there ain't no cameras trained on me, chiquita," Ion says with nonchalant confidence. He plucks a ring out of the jewelry box, tossing it in the palm of his hand and training a bright-wide smile on Hailey, teeth flashing briefly silver-white in the dim light. "How did /you/, eh?" And then, "You like diamonds?" Hailey shakes her head. "I'm not into nickin shit I don't need. And How I got here is none of your business." She says defiantly, blowing a bit of her blue-black hair out of her face. "Just sayin, be careful or you'll get popped, Bein cockys a good way to get pinched." "Then, hermana, how I got here is none of yours either huh?" There's light laughter in Ion's tone as he pockets the ring, closing one drawer of the jewelry box and opening a second drawer to eye its contents. "Sound like you'd know a thing or two about cocky, mmm? But come on, you gotta have, just-a-little bit of /swagger/ in life. 'sides which, I /earn/ my cockiness." Hailey clicks her tongue. "I earned my respect, I don't need to show off like some damned pimp. I got what I got and that's good enough." She smirks and adjusts her hoody a bit. "If I want more, I can get more easy. Anyways I'm exploring, places like these are usually real nice." "Well, chiquita, you didn't earn it from /me/. Which," Ion freely admits as he lines his pockets, "is pretty-alright, you don't /need/ none from me. But you can get up out of my grill while you're at it too, huh? You stay off my toes, I'll stay off yours." He shuts the drawer, leaning against the dresser it's on with one elbow propped on its surface. "Places like this are off the /hook/ did you see their, ah -- ah. Big-as-TV room it's like their own private /movie/ theater right in here." Hailey rolls her eyes "What ev." She starts down the hall to explore, if the other dude shut off the alarms she might as well grab some food and drink. Get warmed up then she could head on home. She walks down the hall and down the stairs, looking around with interest though she's smart enough to keep her hands to herself. Ion doesn't follow after her. Just grins into the darkness. There's not really much of any sound to herald his exit -- no footsteps, no opening doors. But after he straightens from the dresser and takes another swig of beer, the young man is gone from the house. His half-finished beer goes with him.