Private The Docks Two Kits in a Trench Coat

[Cricket]

How she didn’t shriek with either childish glee or abject horror Cricket never knew: her mind barely had time to flash to concern for Finnian when Ruffano’s quick actions saved the day. Reflexively she threw arms around the todd’s neck, making an awkward noise in the back of her throat upon realisation that she had just done so, and in public no less. Feeling the vibrancy of her scales begin to intensify around her face, the gecko decided discretion to be the better part of valour: a rare occurrence for her, but right now she was rather flustered by the sudden change and yelling back at the boisterous onlookers would only make things worse.

They were still professionals. This was just a minor bump in the road.

She supposed that included the bump when her bottom hit the tiles and Cricket awkwardly skidded several feet: she never had been graceful when it came to sticking the landing. Still, her clothes were already filthy enough so there was no real harm done save to her pride. Dusting herself off, she shot Finnian a glance and opened her mouth to check he was alright before Ruffano reassured them. Paws still half-outstretched to help her young companion to his footpaws, she shot the older todd a quizzical glance.

Her tongue shot out, moistening eyes dried by the acrid air, and tasted something else amidst the stale perfumes and tobacco. Despite assurances otherwise trepidation settled on her features, warring with a grudging respect for Ruffano. Damn it but this todd had his plans together: she could learn a thing or two from him, if he didn’t end up holding this ring against her. “What’s even going on out there?”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

Being carried was such an uncomfortable thing. The foxkit was glad for the weight to finally lift off of his shoulders, but Ruffano only had one arm under his legs. Dame Frondoux threatened to split in the middle, leaving Finn dangling from the fox's arm like a kit on the monkey bars. He clung to Cricket as they stumbled down the stairs -- but his grip was weakening. As the hatchling hooked a leg over Ruffano's arms, Finn's grip broke, and he fell.

Fortunately, there was enough tension in the coat to keep him from falling all the way, and he rolled to wrap a paw over Ruffano's elbow. He clung there for dear life, legs dangling backwards and brush flagging in the most undignified manner. His knee banged roughly on the door as they burst through, and for the second time today, he went sprawling on the floor. "Oww~!*!" came a faint little groan from the kit.

The poor kit was completely exhausted, and lay on the floor gasping for air. Cricket was up lickety split, and already getting her bearings in the powder room. Finn, on the other paw, needed a minute -- and waved off her offer for help. "N-nawh... ...I'm good... I'm just gonna... ...lay here and... die, maybe..." he panted. Dramatically, he rolled on his back, and let out a frazzled sigh -- entirely oblivious to the commotion starting outside the powder room.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano approached and knelt beside the fallen kit, brushing a swirl of dust from his vest as he helped Finnian upright onto his haunches. He steadied the young fox by the shoulder, expression part concern and part exaggerated disbelief.

"I respect the dramatics highly, Finniford, but you can’t sleep through the climax!" he chided with a grin. "Not when you are lead role!"

The fox gave the kit a playful tap on the paw, then beckoned Cricket closer with a grand sweep of his arm.

"Now then, my stars... gather ‘round!" he urged, lowering his voice as though they were plotting in the wings before curtain call. "Miss Frondoux, that was a stellar performance. I dare say award-winning! Remind me to bring you a bouquet when our final curtain call concludes, and we are on our way to roll in our well-earned riches!"

His attention returned to Finnian, paw landing with a firm, fatherly pat between the shoulders. "And you, strong lad! You saw the mountain before you, set paw upon it, and laughed. ‘Twas naught but an ant mound! Your strength sees you now perched atop in victory, stronger than you’ve ever been before!"

Outside, muffled shouting grew sharper. The acrid smell of smoke began to slither beneath the door, twining with the cloying perfume of the powder room. Ruffano’s ears twitched. His grin turned sly.

"And now, my brave companions… for the final leap of faith." He tapped a claw lightly against his snout. "Our stagepaw Griblo has set the mood for us! Panic and retreat! The audience fear a fire, but we three know the truth. T’is naught but a ruse! A diversion to claim our winnings!"

The rumble of the crowd swelled. A chair toppled, a glass shattered, many voices cried out for an exit. Ruffano rose to his feet, snapping open the powder room door just a sliver. Smoke curled in like a living thing.

"In mere moments, you’ll leave this dank, pestilence-filled room and trot to the center of the stage. Not on top, but just before it, where a small hatch waits. That is your entrance below. There you’ll find what we came for: a ring of gold and rubies, glittering like temptation itself. You’ll know it when you see it."

He pressed a small matchbox into Finnian’s paw. "For light," he murmured, eyes glinting. "Please, my boy, do try not to start an actual fire."

The room rumbled fainter as the crowd outside continued to stampede for the exits, the building now mostly evacuated. Ruffano tilted his head toward the door, voice rising once more to his theatrical grandeur.

"You have but minutes, my fearless leads! Go now! Find that ring, and make history!"

The fox flung the door wide, and a rush of smoke and noise burst inward like an encore applause. He gestured them forward with a flourish.

The kits’ silhouettes vanished into the haze. Ruffano lingered a moment longer, paw pressed to his heart, before letting the door swing closed behind them.

 

[Cricket]

A snort of amusement escaped her snout at Finnian’s dramatics (was he certain he was an orphan and not Ruffano’s with that performance?) nudging the other kit playfully in the ribs with a footpaw to encourage him up before the older todd drew them into the final act.

Cricket listened intently as Ruffano began to outline the plan, the gecko’s eyes glittering avariciously whilst chaos continued to unfold outside of their hiding place. She had been so suspicious of Ruffano (in truth she still was, buried though it was beneath excitement and the prospect of riches), but there was no denying that this fox had smarts. Already his talents – knowledge of diversions, costumes, backstories and more – were being considered for her own arsenal of schemes down the line.

Still, if she played her cards right, she’d not need to scam a soul for months. Cricket focused her attention back on the instructions. “Centre-stage hatch,” she repeated, “got it. C’mon, Finn.” Fighting the urge not to swipe the matches from Finn’s paws for herself, the gecko stuck close to the younger todd instead as they headed out into the haze. It was uncomfortable, to say the least, without eye protection, but she’d faced worse miasmas in the Slups.

Ducking her head a little to try and bring her snout closer to the boards, and better see them, she began padding for the stage, murmuring to Finnian as she went. “Hatch, hatch…Oh, right, uh…are you goin’ down there, by the way, or am I? Not that I’m, uh, afraid or anything, you just might fit better.”

 

[FinnianBrightfur]

"Oww, oww, hey! No kicking!" laughed Finn, looking up playfully at Ruffano and Cricket from the floor. Reaching up, he clasped the todd's arm with his paw, and hauled himself to his feet.

With a grin to Cricket, he briskly beat the dust out of his pants. They'd really done it, hadn't they? Successfully infiltrated the venue. It was an exhilarating feeling, being somewhere you shouldn't. For someone supposed to be a goodie two shoes, he was quite enjoying himself.

As Ruffano beckoned him closer, the foxkit eagerly trotted over to join the huddle. Gates, but the little kit yearned to be a part of something bigger than himself. He'd always had trouble making friends with his own age group -- but here he was, best mates with an older todd and gecko. Finn could hardly believe how quickly they'd bonded together, and was already busy dreaming up the escapades they'd go on together. Perhaps they'd become art thieves! ...but you know. The good kind, that stole art back.

Finn was so far off in that daydream that he hadn't even notice the smoke wafting into the room. Just as a flash of alarm registered on his face, Ruffano thrust a box of matches into his paws. He looked terribly confused for just a moment while his mind caught up with the conversation. Ah... aaahhaaa!! Now he got it.

As they rushed out into the smoke, Finn took Cricket's hand so they wouldn't get separated. A few other beasts were still bumbling their way to the exit, but they overlooked the short kits fumbling their way to the stage. At any rate, the smoke wasn't so bad lower to the ground. "Y'mean under the stage? I mean... two's better'n one, innit?" he asked in a lowered tone.

Reaching the stage, Finn crouched down, and began to grope along the front for a hatch. His paws stumbled upon a brass ring, and he gave it a pull. But with a sudden realization, Finn halted and stood upright. "Aww shoot!" he hissed with a little cough. He looked back towards the powder room as if he'd forgotten something, a yearning regret written on his face. "We shoulda done a... paws in, one two three! thing..." he lamented. With a brisk yank, Finn tugged the door open.

Oh. That's why Cricket didn't want to go underneath. It was terribly dark under the stage. Finn fumbled with the matches, and with a little skiff, a flame spurted to life. Like a propper little kitscout, Finn guarded the flame until it caught, and then held the match upright to keep it from burning down too quickly.

With a cocky grin, he looked over his shoulder at Cricket. "Y'aren't scared of the dark are ya? ...well... ladies first!" And blissfully unaware of the shame he was about to heap on himself, the foxkit ducked under the stage, and crawled in head first.

 

[Ruffano Quickwhistle]

Ruffano watched until the last wisp of Cricket and Finnian’s tails vanished into the haze. Smoke billowed thick across the floorboards, curling like a stage curtain over the young pair. For a heartbeat, his paw twitched as if to call them back... then he caught himself, drew up straight, and pressed a paw dramatically to his chest.

"Break a leg, my shining stars!"

The fox let the powder room door swing shut behind him. The latch clicked, muffled by the declining din beyond. He leaned his back against the wall, handkerchief pressed daintily to his nose, eyes flicking toward the thin line of smoke slipping under the door like a living serpent.

"Every grand production requires its intermission," he muttered, voice muffled by linen. "Though one hopes not in a lavatory."

He paced once, twice, tail swishing, then crouched beside the old powder shelf, posture composed but eyes tight with worry. Ruffano shut his eyes, inhaled through his perfumed cloth, and gave a small, crooked smile.

"Be safe my little troupe… don’t disappoint me now."

---

The basement of the neighboring building was no place for applause. It smelled of damp timber and rot, of rusted nails and old wine turned sour. Crates and mannequins leaned in crooked piles, and a single lantern burned low beside a rough tunnel clawed into the wall.

Ressik Pike crouched by the breach, hunched shoulders glistening faintly with moisture. He turned a small sandglass in his paw, squinting as the last grains slipped through.

"Almost there," he rasped through uneven teeth. "Jusht a little more and we’re in."

Behind him, Brask Fenroot wiped grit from his fur and scowled. His coat was the dull brown of mud-soaked leather, his paws heavy with callus.

"Smells like dead rat an’ wet paint. Place better be worth it, Ressik."

The smaller weasel didn’t look up. He worked with precise flicks of his chisel, shaving fragments of old wood away with care.

"It’sh worth it, Brashk. The dame's payin’ plenty. She wantsh her rival’s ring... an’ when she flashesh proof, that rival’sh finished."

"Don’t sound like much t’ me," Brask grunted. "A ring’s a ring. Sell it an’ run."

Ressik’s black eyes gleamed in the lamplight. "You don’t think. You jusht dig. I think. I get us paid twice."

A low vibration shivered through the boards above... the scrape of tables, a distant rhythm of shouting and tumbling chairs. Brask froze, ears flicking.

"What’s that? Show goin’ on?"

"Crowd noise, maybe," Ressik replied, smirking. "Meansh we’re safe. No one’sh gonna hear a thing."

The chisel bit deeper, wood splintered, and a faint draft of stale air gusted through the hole. A curl of smoke followed—thin, white, and acrid.

"There," Ressik breathed. "Right where she said the trinket fell."

Brask cracked his knuckles, baring yellowed teeth in a grin. "Then let’s grab it ‘fore them fancy softclaws upstairs clap us deaf."

Ressik blew out the lantern. Darkness claimed the basement, save for the dim orange wink of a smoldering fuse and the ragged hole yawning beneath the stage.

Together, the two weasels crawled into the darkness...

 

[Cricket]

Cricket was about to respond, fire back a challenge to the younger todd about how girls were just as capable of being fearless thieving scumbags thank-you-very-much when he…merely dived in himself. The gecko blinked, too confused for a moment to respond, and then had to clap a paw over her snout to stifle a barking cackle. Indeed all which prevented her from doing so was catching the trapdoor before it could slam down and setting it gently, swing open, against the boards.

No she wasn’t scared. Not at all. She was simply…being a shrewd entrepreneur. The ring’s profits were going to be split between herself and Finnian but herself being the originator of such a bold scheme meant that it was her right to defer tasks, right?

Nothing to do with the dark and the unknown and the cramped spaces and…

Coiling her tail about the hinge of the trapdoor, she let it hold her weight as she leaned down into the cavity, hissing towards the little orange glow of her little orange friend. “We’ll get lost an’ never come back up if we both go down,” she lied quickly. “You see if you can find it and I’ll guide you back!”