#anywhere

The world's largest museum at the 13th hour , the witching hour, night has fallen and quieted all. Paris is a city of lights, yet it is rather dark in here. And even outside, the city is quieter.

The Louvre has rarely been more private.

Until Earl and Zara entered it that is.

"So.. just a pen, and not say, an entire mummy?"

A sigh and a Look. Earl doesn't understand.

Earl smiles. Maybe he does just a bit, "I know. I've heard stories of American Indian tribes back in the day. Counting Coup, harmless... but a source of great honor and pride"

"Exactly. Flicker-flashing in, well - it won't count."

"I hope portal passage counts?" A brow

"Non."

"As my lady favors" he says

"YOU may portal passage, of course..."

"Or we enjoy this, at our leisure..."

"You won't think less of me if I do?" He says "You know your opinion means the world to me"

"Thou art not a sluagh, Hunter-mine."

"Nay, then I might become perfect, and you might find me tedious" Faux somber

A soft chuff, delighted.

"Very well, we'll make a race of it.. I cheat, you do not cheat. Let's see who gets a pen first.." A smile

Zara eyes the sign for the curator's office... well, that might be worthwhile.

And the race is on... they split. She seeks out that office, he seeks ..well, who knows

Zara breaks out her lock-picks - elegant, slender tools of silver, nocker-wrought.

Oh who needs the internet when one has a feel for things, and a memory! She searches carefully and yes, there it is, the Curiator's office. Locked, naturally

Naturally.

She places her ear to the latch as she works the lock with two probes... gently tapping and setting pins...

Oh my, these are good locks. She'll get it, of course but...

footsteps..and not Earl's. She knows Earl's foot steps like she knows his heart beat

Zara cloaks herself - it is dark, but a veil is wise.

A mortal figure approaches, "Why the Custodian's office?" She hears in perfect French.

Another footsteps, also not Earl's

"The master longs for the prizes here, not all are on display. From here we get the keys to the basement level and perhaps the list of where the treasures might be found mmm? They will not notice things stolen from below as quickly"

Not changelings.. no glamour.

They wear black, have their faces partly concealed. And their own lockpicks and tools. These men are thieves.

Zara draws her picks from the lock, and whispers to it. "Thou art Mine, do not let them pass..."

The lock hears the words...and listens.

But she best withdraw, or veiled or not they may stumble onto her.

Zara flattens against the wall, watching.

A pen is one thing... but to take these treastures?

For something so crude as profit?

To her silent delight, she finds her cantrip makes the lock positively defiant

"What's wrong?"

"The lock's w rong it's... acting like the tumblers are .. I don't know i'd swear they were slippery In there"

"Impossible"

"You try it. I don't know how we'll explain it to our master"

("Master?") She raises a silent eyebrow.

Not a term heard often. Hell, French WAITERS don't recognize a master.

"Just rip the lock off..."

A gesture, a clenched fist & flexed muscle! The door is strong!

"That defeats the purpose of stealing things discretely, don't you think?"

Novem goes from Zara's shoulder to latch a ride on one of the thieves.

And onto the ride.

Cursing, and pulling...this is going nowhere for the thieves