I'm a thief of knowledge ((The Master))

[CharlotteC]

Her brow arched ever so slightly when he spoke of her having something that he wanted. That could clearly go in many directions. After all she had a lot of things that people could want. They could want her phone, her money, any of the guns she had on her, or the knives. They could want the relics she wore or the one that she had currently. And on the more perverse side... they could want her body. After all, as an allurist, she did tend to attract people that wanted her solely for her looks or because she had that tempting tone that she used to talk prices up or down.

It was when he mentioned that she should be careful what she steals that the pieces fell into place and the puzzle took shape. The corners of her lips twitched upward and a gleam came to her chocolate hues, the kind of gleam that said 'game on'. "You may want it, but I am the one that was there at the right time and got it before you and every other thief that was in that building. It's a shame really... but, better luck next time." She said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her newest acquisition, her eyes turning to look at it, it's dim sparkle in the minimal light. Then she reached with her free hand to pull the same necklace out from under her collar.

He mentioned that he had a crew, but from what Rhett had told her, he had been walking alone. Rhett would never, could never, put her in harm. After all, she had full control over him... even though she rarely used it. She gave him a once over, looking at him, taking in every detail she could see and was already mapping and reading his face. Then she smiled again and that smile turned into a laugh. A full laugh. One of disbelief. Shaking her head she leveled her eyes on him and then placed both her hands in her pockets yet again.

"Do you know the trick to a convincing bluff?" She waited a mere moment before continuing... "Every once in a while you have to be holding all the cards." She smiled again, one that was more teasing as she rocked back and forth on her feet. "I don't think you have these men at all... these people watching your back." She said as she tilted her head to the side, causing her hair to fall away from her shoulder and bare her neck as she continued. "No. I believe you really want this necklace, but you are using the wrong tactic... especially since I already have one." There was that smirk again.

"This sells pretty well in auction..." She said, her eyes shifting to watch him. "And one more thing, playing the cop card won't work with me. I'm in the police database at least once an hour... I would know if you were a cop. Nice acting though..." She continued to tease.

[Stonehouse]

The artificial glow of the flickering streetlights cast weird and wonderful shadows across the dead-end street, like ghostly claws stretching out to grab their frightened prey. These shadows were Stonehouse’s friends, his brothers-in-arms during periods of need. Somehow, over time, he had become at one with the shapeless entities, able to manipulate them, join with them to seemingly vanish from sight, or control them to come to his aid. As he stared at the cocky thief in her leather jacket, her smug face partially illuminated by the warmth of the overhead lamps while she held the glistening prize in her tightly clenched fist, Stonehouse wondered if he could use the shadows as his puppet. It would be such an amazing trick to be able to control the blackness and have those ethereal fingers steal the necklace from her grasp. That would certainly wipe the smirk from her lips. Maybe he could choke her from the comfortable distance of the opposite side of the street, or stretch out her slim limbs to make her dance for him. The shadow puppeteer could have so much fun.

Alas, such power was beyond him, and he was not yet the master of darkness, but he had, at least, enslaved one of its servants. The raven-haired burglar’s words about bluffing and not holding the correct cards amused Stonehouse as he returned her conceited grin with one of his own. She may have been right, he didn’t have a gang of thugs watching his back, it was a bluff, but he most certainly did have assistance. After all, wandering alone in dimly lit backstreets could be rather dangerous. One really didn’t know who might be lurking around the next corner, ready to pounce like panther.

“Hey, Sugar,” whispered a sweet female voice into Stonehouse’s ear, “it looks like Miss Fancypants has a human helping her out. He spends too much time on his phone to be of any real concern.”

Wraiths were incredibly helpful creatures; a second pair of eyes and ears to broaden the visual and auditory horizons of even the most astute vampire. Drifting effortlessly like a spectral breeze, they could roam freely, undetected by most other people, be they human or vampire, gathering invaluable data, in this case, information about an accomplice. A bluff was only a bluff if one’s hand really was truly worthless. In this instance, Stonehouse may not have been backed up by a full house, but he did at least have an ace up his sleeve.

“So you don’t believe that I have friends poised to take you down?” asked Stonehouse. “Well, my non-existent friends seem to have your buddy with the phone all locked up.”

Sure, it was another bluff, an exaggeration of the truth, but hopefully a more convincing one than his earlier attempt. He had to roll with it and display his best poker face. Folding was not an option.

“Oh, and don’t bother trying to phone him,“ continued the storyteller, “they already have his phone.”

It was probably only a matter of time before the human ally turned up to assist the disbelieving cat burglar, so Stonehouse would need to work fast in order to maintain the charade. Whether she was buying his story or not, the window of opportunity to get one over his counterpart was slender, and could be slammed shut at any second. The money raised from selling an item of jewellery such as the one in the dark-haired woman’s possession could buy a multitude of things, but it couldn’t buy time. Time was the one thing that Stonehouse didn’t have.

“Yes, I do want that necklace,” added Stonehouse, addressing the thief’s statement, “so perhaps you should enlighten me as to what tactics to adopt, otherwise I may simply grab what I want and leave you to the mercy of my crew.”

[CharlotteC]

The moment that he mentioned that his 'friends had Rhett', Charlie's eyes narrowed slightly and she turned her gaze onto the male. She put the necklace back in her pocket and arched her brow, something about the way he spoke rubbed her the wrong way and she took in every detail of the guy, every flaw, every fidget, line, wrinkle, she noted it all mentally. And as she did, she tapped into her phone and sent a text to Rhett, he answered right away. He was ok, he had his phone. He was safe. Telepathically, she told him to find her but to do it from high ground. She knew that he would find his way to a rooftop near her and that he would give her something that she needed. An aerial of the area.

While she had panicked slightly on the inside, she thankfully had kept her smile glued to her face, it was one of those things that helped her when she was caught during her breaking and entering days. Granted, those days were very few and far between now. Between the gadgets she held and just the skill she had acquired over the years, she rarely got caught anymore. This time, she had been caught, but she had been caught by someone trying to be something that he wasn't. He wasn't a cop. He wasn't a winner. He was nothing but a liar. Her smile grew then and she shook her head at the guy. "Another bluff, another lie... tsk tsk..." She purred and then she reached out with her senses to see if she could pick up on anything, she could hear the occasional car driving by, and she could hear the slight rattle of metal and she hoped that that was Rhett climbing the fire escape on the other side of the building.

Her concentration went back on the male and she smiled a bit more. "Oh there are many tactic's you can take. You could wait till I put it up for auction. You can try to sweet talk me, but from what I can see, you couldn't do that. You could stop lying. You could try and take it, but I think that would be the biggest mistake. You could ask nicely. You could beg... ooooo... I think I would like to see that one." She smiled more and gave a bit of a soft laugh and then she felt her phone vibrate and she knew that Rhett was in place. Charlie was about to reach out mentally to tell him to send her a picture of the situation when the connection took on a new turn.

Suddenly, Charlie wasn't standing in front of the guy, looking at him. No, she was looking at things from where she could only assume Rhett had gone because she was looking at herself and the guy from the rooftop. This... this was new. She was seeing from Rhett like she was him. She used him to look around the area, moving him around the roof top. There were no gangs that she could see, not even close. The streets were almost totally empty now. It was very late after all. And then she was looking back at her self and the guy. She could see the way the shadows were and she wondered if the guy before her was a shadow. Then she was back in her own body again, and she couldn't help but give a quick shake of her head to clear what had just happened.

Once more, Charlie was looking at the male and she brought her arms up, crossing them under her chest. "Tell the truth, because I will know it's a lie, there isn't a gang. Oh, and I know for a fact that my friend is completely safe, and I didn't need my phone to tell me that."

[Stonehouse]

Stonehouse was a huge fan of science fiction movies, as they brought out the techno-geek in him. He also loved their close cousin, the superhero genre, as he could marvel at the powers that the costume-clad crusaders possessed. Stonehouse would give his right arm – which could probably be replaced with a vastly superior bionic limb – to acquire such amazing talents and have the ability to conquer, and subsequently rule, all before him. Being able to fly, become invisible, or exploit the minds of others were skills that every control freak such as Stonehouse dreamed about. Perhaps vampires were, in a sense, a superhero sub-section, blessed with almost magical capabilities? The entrepreneur had no real interest in being a hero, in saving the world; he simply wanted to be master of his recently inhabited underworld. The rest of the globe would have to wait… for now at least.

Strangely enough, despite his adoration for superheroes and their fantastical existences, the characters that Stonehouse admired the most were not ones such as Thor or Superman, the godlike entities who were bestowed with virtually infallible gifts, but the ones who were effectively just human. The likes of Batman and Ironman were essentially “normal” people, but with extraordinary flair and creativity. It was fair to say that Stonehouse wouldn’t say no to the billionaire lifestyles of Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark, but it was their ingenuity, their aptitude for invention, that truly appealed to him. Superman could naturally fly, but Stark created a suit that could do the same. What was the bigger achievement? Stonehouse’s favourite heroes were fallible, but not because of a glowing green lump of Kryptonite, but due to the fact that they were human. If nothing else, Clarke Kent was a walking fashion disaster, whereas Bruce Wayne showed his sartorial finesse by creating an infinitely cooler and sexier black outfit. Red boots and “underwear” over the top of blue legging? Really?

Stonehouse’s regalia was not nearly as elegant of that of Batman. Maybe a cape would add a certain level of prestige to the dark green boiler suit and chunky work-boots. He stood in the dimly lit alleyway, both hands on his hips as he clicked the roof of his mouth, repeatedly, with his curled tongue, trying to weigh up the ballsy woman standing in the dead-end opposite him. Was she some kind of superhero? She certainly seemed to show no regard for his threats, and appeared to know everything that was going on. This really was an intriguing situation.

Telling stories was second nature to Stonehouse. His charisma could captivate a crowd, and his bubbly personality could persuade the most impersonal pussy to purr in the palm of his hand. He was a master raconteur, able to tell a tale that Hans Christian Andersen would have been proud of, yet this lady in leather was having none of it. The skilled salesman could sell sand to the Saudi Arabians, or ice to the Inuit, but the feisty thief simply wasn’t buying. Instead, she dismissed his bluff about the gang without a second thought. How on earth was she so sure that he wasn’t going to blow her head clean off if she didn’t comply? The way she had proclaimed that she’d know if he were telling a lie was utterly perplexing. Was she Wonder Woman? Was she about to ensnare him with the Lasso of Truth?

“Did you see her!” said a high-pitched, almost shocked voice into Stonehouse’s left ear. “She just disregarded your words and used her phone right in front of you. It was so blatant. I hope that you’re not losing your touch, Honey?”

The wraith may as well have been called Robin, and yelled “Holy phone call, Batman”, fully immersing herself into the role of the sidekick. Worryingly, though, she appeared to be right; his touch did seem to have deserted him. Stonehouse mulled over the tactics that had been offered by the smug burglar in the hope that all was not lost. Auction was not an option; why buy what you can steal, right? In essence he really was trying to sweet talk her, albeit through means of intimidation, but was failing miserably, suggesting to the wiser side of the ultra confident charmer that his counterpart must be some kind of genius, after all, see could see through his bluffs like they were fine sheets of crystal clear glass. As for taking the prize by force, that would normally have been his last resort, as violence tended to be a game played by those without the skills of negotiation. In any event, the self-assured thief’s comments about that particular course of action being the “biggest mistake” were incredibly off-putting. Was she not only a mind-reading genius, but also a mighty warrior? Maybe the necklace that she’d pilfered was some kind of amulet of almightiness?

The options were becoming increasingly obvious to Stonehouse as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Either the brazen burglar was, herself, a bold bluffer, full of **** and worthy of a full clip of ammo through her skull, or she was possibly the most powerful person that he’d so far encountered in Harper Rock. Gambling was generally the pastime of fools, as the house nearly always won, and on current form, Stonehouse was down on his luck and low on chips. Perhaps it was time to fold?

“You do seem to know a lot,” announced Stonehouse, calling out to the dark-haired thief, “so I assume that you already know what I’m going to do next?”

[CharlotteC]

Thanks to the pitch of the voice, Charlie had managed to pick up the voice of the invisible person, the fact that she couldn't see her could only mean one of two things. And that was that either he was with a shadow that was currently hiding, or he had a wraith, which was pretty much the same thing. She arched her brow at what she heard, and then leveled her glare on the guy for a moment, wondering how he had known that she had used her phone when she had been doing it mentally herself. That irked her but at the same time, she wasn't about to let him see that it bothered her. Or even the fact that she had heard the voice. She was willing to hedge her bet that the voice she had heard had been one of a wraith, which meant she was hardly in any danger from going into an uneven battle if need be.

It wasn't until he spoke though that she arched her brow ever higher and then began to laugh, one of those deep laughs that showed she was really amused. And though it was a full laughter, it held that alluring tint to it, as her voice was the kind that could talk most into something, or not into attacking. Then she shook her head and looked right into his eyes. "I do know a lot, I see a lot, I remember everything I see - so I will remember you, but I am no psychic, so assuming anything only makes an *** out of you." She said with a smirk before going on. "Though I will admit, I still want to see what you look like down on your knees and begging me for this lovely little trinket..." She said as she moved her hand in her pocket to draw his attention to the fact that she was holding onto what he wanted so much. "Oh yes, I think that would please me greatly after you have tried to fool me into thinking first that you were a cop and second that my roommate was in trouble. Both silly and amateur mistakes."

The smile she gave was saucy and spoke of her amusement that at least currently, she was the one holding all the cards. Or rather, the one holding all the loot. Charlie then winked one chocolate hue at the man and took a step back, leaning against the chain link fence and putting one foot up against it, as if she were waiting for the show to begin. She highly doubted that he would actually beg for it, in fact, she was willing to bet he was just going to tuck his tail between his legs and call it quits. He seemed like the kind of male that wouldn't beg for anything, wouldn't need to, that everything had been handed to him on a silver platter. The kind of guys she had avoided when she had been at MIT.

Now though, perhaps it was her change in status among the living, his type didn't so much bug her as amuse her. It was as if they were compensating for something, something that she hadn't been in the mood to care about when she had been younger. Not that she had needed to worry about males back then, she had been involved not only with someone else, but with her studies as well. Yes, now men like him simply seemed to amuse her in ways that no others did. Perhaps because others didn't try so hard to make themselves seem bigger than they were.

[Stonehouse]

Apparently, reality TV sensation, Kim Kardashian, the talentless sex tape socialite, and wife of fuckwit extraordinaire, Kanye "the greatest living rockstar on the planet" West, has gone on record as saying that she receives letters from little girls, begging her to adopt them. Those sad, deluded kids are clearly in need of urgent medical attention, including brain scans to check that they don't have hollow, empty skulls. It's bad enough that the media-whoring couple have a child of their own named after a compass direction, but to have other little munchkins pleading to be brought into the fold is truly laughable. Sheep lead by the shepherd of celebrity, would be how a cynical Stonehouse would describe the misguided infants.

Stonehouse rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, his face slightly contorted out of shape as he listened with interest to the feisty woman's words, trying his best not to erupt into a fit of giggles. To the confident entrepreneur, what she was saying redefined laughable! Did this ballsy burglar think she was the beadle of Harper Rocks's workhouse, like Mr Bumble in Oliver Twist? Stonehouse was not going to be standing, timidly, in front of her with his begging bowl, asking for more jewellery.

"So you want me to beg?" he said in a quizzical voice, clearly amused by the thief's ridiculous fantasies. "Well I'd quite like to be driving along the main street of Harper Rock in my shiny new Lamborghini Veneno, with Scarlett Johansson huddled up in the passenger seat sucking my ****, but neither scenarios are going to happen tonight."

Stonehouse paused, offering a sarcastic smile in the direction of the leather-clad criminal as she propped herself up against the mesh of the metal fence.

"Sadly the car's in the garage for a service..." he added, with a subtle hint of a grin, allowing his words to trail off like a meandering steam.

"An Italian car?" whispered the surprised, sugary voice of his wraith. "I always thought that an Aston Martin would be more your style, Honey."

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” replied Stonehouse, tilting his head slightly towards his invisible companion.

That really was a ridiculous phrase. If people didn’t judge a book by its cover, then why did authors and publishers go to such trouble finding creative artists to produce eye-catching sleeves? The casual browser in a bookstore could be lured into an otherwise unknown novel by a mere glimpse of a glossy façade. Yes, perhaps a wise old head should judge a book by its cover? The question remained in Stonehouse’s mind: how should he judge his counterpart?

The dark-haired urban ninja seemed to know far too much, like she possessed a multitude of magical powers. Stonehouse could only make an assessment on what he was witnessing, like a high court judge weighing up the evidence in a trial. Maybe he should point one of his hand cannons at her head, and see if she could avoid the bullets? If she thought he was Oliver Twist, about to come begging, cap in hand, perhaps she was the Artful Dodger? Could her abilities include stopping time so that she could sidestep the potentially lethal projectiles with consummate ease, like Neo in The Matrix? Her attire certainly fit the part.

So she thought he was trying to pretend to be a cop? Was he the Agent Smith to her Mr Anderson? The thought tickled Stonehouse. Although he had respect for the law, and for authority in general, he was most definitely not a cop. His somewhat shady business ventures would surely land the trader in a world of trouble if the police caught wind of what he was actually up to behind the veil of his so-called legitimate operations. He wasn’t trying to imitate; he was trying to intimidate. The woman simply wasn’t falling for it.

The additional problem of the rogue’s human accomplice needed to be addressed. Unless he happened to be an expert marksman, carrying a high-powered sniper rifle, then his position upon the rooftops was not yet of any great concern, but could Stonehouse take that chance? It was decision time for the calm and collected businessman. It was time to strike a deal. Fortune favours the brave, but only fools rush in, or so the sayings go. So which was it to be? Mentally, Stonehouse flipped a coin: time to be foolishly brave! Drawing his firearm, Stonehouse rushed at the woman as she casually rested on the fence as if it were a vertical hammock.

“Freeze, *****, or I’ll turn your brains into poorhouse gruel!” yelled Stonehouse, his semi-automatic weapon aimed at her smug face.

[CharlotteC]

As he spoke of wanting road head from Scarlett Johansson while he drove a piece of **** car that had no rights being driven in a city, Charlie was rolling her eyes at the idea. Of course. He was a male after all. All they wanted was sex. She continued to lean against the fence, her eyes watching his. He really would put something like that kind of car on the streets of this city? What a waste. One would never get out of second gear because of all of the stop lights at the corners. There was just too many to really allow a car like that to be free to be the car it is. He said that the car was in the shop and again she rolled her eyes. Of course it was, probably ruined the transmission by driving it in a city. Pathetic.

She could clearly hear the conversation between him and the invisible person that she was sure, by now was nothing more than a wraith. The way that she had not been attacked already told her that it wasn’t a vampire with any real power. So with that, she continued to wait, to watch, to see what it was that this male would try to do to get the trinket that she held in her position. Waiting, waiting and then he made his move and a part of her couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that he had taken this route. Of course he would pull a weapon and try to mug her ***. He told her not to move, so she didn’t but she was weighing all of her options.

Option A: She shifts into her monster form and tries her best to fight her way out of the situation. The sight of a half woman, half hyena with the teeth of the beast was bound to scare most people, plus it would give her the strength advantage that she would possibly need to fight this male before her. She had no idea just how strong or weak he was, just because she didn’t know him, didn’t mean that she would be a good fighter against him. Hell, she wasn’t much for fighting one on one, or even twenty to one. Still, that was one option.

Option B: She could just use a burst of speed, take the bullet - if it even hit her - and run for it. That was something a fair bit more tempting. She would heal, and yeah, she would have a scar after, but she would heal.

Option C: Give the man the damn trinket and just call it a night. That though, that wasn’t her style and plus, that would give him a win. She didn’t allow people like the schmuck before her to win.

Option D: She could Tomb to the den, then good luck with the guy trying to find her. She didn’t even need to open the book, it was always with her. All she had to do was recite the words she had converted to memory and bye bye Charlie.

That option seemed to sound the best, not only that, but it would allow her a parting shot. She didn’t move a muscle. She just looked at the male, her smile still on her face. Still smug. “Good luck with that.” She said and then began to recite the words, they were ancient and of fae origin but what they meant she actually didn’t know, and that didn’t happen often. She just knew with the final words, she would feel a pull into shadows and find herself standing in the safety of her family’s place. And with the last word, she lifted her hand and waved just in time to vanish from sight.

When her eyes opened again, she found herself standing right where she knew she would be. Safe, she walked to the elevator and took it up to the safety of her family’s place. A place that held everything she could ever need. Then she thought of Rhett, quickly she shot him a telepathic message telling him to get lost from the scene, she was safe, he would have to get safe as well. She only hoped that he would listen as she plopped down at the computer. It was then that she gave a gasp and she found herself once again seeing through the eyes of Rhett. He was making his way towards a safe place. The Pub. He would be safe there. That much was true. Plus he too could make his way home from there.

Another gasp and she was once again looking at the computer screen and the auction house listings. Time to sell, sell, sell.

[Stonehouse]

The Lamborghini Veneno, with its 6.5L, V12 engine that produces 740bhp, is truly a beast of a car. At its launch, back in 2013, the Italian supercar was the most expensive production car in the world, costing a whopping US$4,500,000. Only 5 were ever built: 2 for the manufacturers to keep and parade at motor shows, corporate events, and demonstrations; and 3 more for private customers, presumably ones with exceedingly large bank balances. Effectively, the Veneno was as rare as rocking horse ****, so the chance of Stonehouse ever owning one was, to all intents and purposes, zero. Granted, an additional 9 limited edition Veneno Roadsters were constructed a year later in 2014, but they were never going to be quite the same. As Robert Stonehouse, Grant’s father, would say about AC/DC’s Geordie vocalist, Brian Johnson, he was good, but he wasn’t exactly Bon Scott.

It mattered little that Stonehouse didn’t own, or indeed would never own, one of Lamborghini’s 50th anniversary masterpieces, because not even the ability to accelerate from 0-60mph in less that 3 seconds, or reach a top speed well in excess of 200mph, would have allowed the startled businessman to catch up with his prey. As the gun-totting Englishman charged at the leather-clad female thief, as if the raging bull on the badge of the European supercar had leapt from the bonnet, she vanished into thin air while reciting some kind of incantation. Stonehouse’s sprint slowed to a casual trot, before he applied the brakes and came to rest upon the metal fence that had only moments earlier been the nesting place of the dark-haired cat burglar.

Stonehouse scratched the back of this head, ruffling a few strands of thick black hair, as he spun around to scan the area for traces of the disappearing woman. There was no sign of her anywhere. It was as if she had been consumed by the night, swallowed up by the living street and digested into the city’s stomach.

“Well, that was a pretty cool trick,” said Stonehouse with a grin across his face as he peered back along the alleyway whence he’d just come. “I really need to learn how to do that.”

Stonehouse pondered the possibility that the vivacious vanishing vixen really was a superhero, as he had alluded to in jest. Then again, he’d developed a few weird and wonderful skills of his own, so maybe they were both superheroes to a certain degree.

“Perhaps Wonder Woman would have preferred the Aston Martin to the Lamborghini,” whispered a creamy soft voice, as Stonehouse’s ethereal companion caught up with him. “I did say that I didn’t think the flashy Italian ride was quite your style, Sweetheart.”

Stonehouse raised an eyebrow, an ironic smile breaking out across his chiselled face. He most definitely did not drive Harper Rock’s most outrageous sports car, but not only that, he didn’t have the mysterious jewellery either, as it was goodness knows where by now, undoubtedly being held tightly to the chest of the magical thief like a child clutching at a teddy bear on a cold winter’s night.

“What about the human?” asked the wraith in her gentle voice. “You could try and gun him down before he gets away. He surely cannot be as elusive as his mistress?”

“What, forget about Batman, and go and hunt Robin instead?” replied Stonehouse, ruminating on the suggestion like a cow grazing on fresh, green pastures. “No, I don’t see the point. I’d rather have the organ grinder than the monkey.”

Replacing his powerful firearm inside his overalls, Stonehouse rolled his tongue around the outside of his teeth, contorting his face as he decided what to do next.

“I think we’ll leave Tweedledum and Tweedledee alone for now,” continued Stonehouse. “I’ll remember Alice in Wonderland’s smug, condescending face next time she drops through a rabbit hole, and deal with her then."

Stonehouse glanced down at his watch. The night was still young, despite the distractions that the evening had so far brought. His face appeared to almost sparkle beneath a flickering streetlamp as a broad smile traversed his face from ear to ear.

“How about we try target number two,” he announced proudly, “that old warehouse in the Redwood district? We may as well do something useful with the remaining hours of darkness.”

With those enthusiastic words, the eager criminal turned tail and jogged towards the nearest sewer entrance, ready to pick a different battle. The Houdini-like thief had sarcastically wished Stonehouse good luck prior to her unannounced, premature departure. It was time for him to make a roll with some different dice, and see if luck was on his side.