Trilby looked up, clutching his coat tighter around him. It was snowing, and it was quiet. An eerie kind of quiet that Trilby didn’t mind. “And the gentleman thief makes his entrance..” he muttered, remembering.

He never seemed to make a move without remembering something. He couldn’t say he liked this, but he had to live with it. As his boots crunched in the snow, he smiled grimly. Not a single memory left him easily, these days. Even simple, silly memories seemed to stand out in his mind, pulled into the spotlight due to his reluctance to dwell on other memories.

He knew why he had said those words to himself when he had arrived in that manor. It was arrogance, bravado. Some way to show off to an imaginary audience. The only audience a thief is themselves, and until the heist is complete, there will be no newspaper articles, no time in the spotlight.

Trilby had kept it that way until that supposedly deserted manor. Perhaps it was carelessness, but he had made sound, talked to himself, while entering the mansion, and perhaps that had caused the whole string of events that had led to his being here, now.

It is a cardinal rule of robbery to be quiet while on the job. Trilby had broken that rule in his complacency.

He had forgotten what he had relearned in Chapow city.

Trilby paused, reflecting on this, watching the stars. The stars were bright enough to be seen tonight. He wondered what that meant, and shook his head.

It was time to get off the streets and to go home. His thoughts were running rampant again, as they did more often these days, and he needed another mission. He needed to contact the Ministry and do something.

Anything to keep himself away from his thoughts.