i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta
The Ark clicks her tongue as though Jack has proposed some extravagant inconvenience on her behalf. "No, you’ve already got far too much to do this afternoon." The innocence of it is undercut by the look she gives him over the lowered edge of her sunglasses, plainly aware that she was absolutely on his list of things to do.
She turns her attention to her hands, then, drawing a thin sheen of saltwater across her palms before rubbing them together until the last trace of sweetness is gone. [sy]"Nothing especially useful on the surface," she admits, settling back against the bench. The qualification is deliberate; Jack could have peeled half the market open merely by walking through it, while she had been left to rely on loose mouths and the confidence people found when they believed no one important was listening.
"Finch’s name came up," she continues, "and someone else was complaining that the Thieves Cant in the Fingers has been mangled so badly half of it is just nonsense rather than misdirection." Codes only work while everyone agrees upon them; subterfuge was one thing, but once thieves begin twisting the language for their own convenience, every message becomes an invitation to betrayal. "It sounds like the undercity’s become considerably less...organized since you left." There has never been much honour among thieves, but under Jack’s hand there had at least been order, rules, and consequences sharp enough to keep the worst opportunists from fouling the whole machine. Without him, it appears the Fingers have begun to rot into a free-for-all, with everyone cheating badly and no one competent enough to make them regret it.
She turns her attention to her hands, then, drawing a thin sheen of saltwater across her palms before rubbing them together until the last trace of sweetness is gone. [sy]"Nothing especially useful on the surface," she admits, settling back against the bench. The qualification is deliberate; Jack could have peeled half the market open merely by walking through it, while she had been left to rely on loose mouths and the confidence people found when they believed no one important was listening.
"Finch’s name came up," she continues, "and someone else was complaining that the Thieves Cant in the Fingers has been mangled so badly half of it is just nonsense rather than misdirection." Codes only work while everyone agrees upon them; subterfuge was one thing, but once thieves begin twisting the language for their own convenience, every message becomes an invitation to betrayal. "It sounds like the undercity’s become considerably less...organized since you left." There has never been much honour among thieves, but under Jack’s hand there had at least been order, rules, and consequences sharp enough to keep the worst opportunists from fouling the whole machine. Without him, it appears the Fingers have begun to rot into a free-for-all, with everyone cheating badly and no one competent enough to make them regret it.
i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
