She methodically twirls a soul-bon needle (an energy orb Zārin’s mentally slimmed into the right shape) in a lock, effectively picking the metal mechanism.
Instead of a wild, unaligned element in the thievery world, Zārin’s started playing nice with Cairo’s thieves guild. They took her lack of roots in the city as an excuse to regularly send her on the gigs that took place outside of Egypt.
Zārin began not to mind once she +
Thieving about; Zārin picked up a high-paying job to steal a rare plant from a research facility. Currently, she enacts soul energy to encompass the potted bloom; the assigned guards and scientists to this location laid out unconsciously behind her.
+ she wore beneath her chin.
“Thank you. I’ll take a water. Where is it, though? You’ve already cooked and plated this, the least I can do is get my own drink..your’s too, if you don’t have one already.”
She’d appreciate that. Without many marketable skills, most of the ‘work’ she engages in is illegal. The judgement that usually follows keeps her from sharing the truth…atleast, initally.
“Lucky me.”
Upon his return, she drops down the mouth covering portion of the Niqab +
“Be my guest. I made too much, anyways.”
He won’t pry into what said work may entail. Breaking bread comes first.
After a moment in the kitchen, he returned to the table with a fresh serving passed her way.
“Bon appétit. Feel free to have a drink, too, if you want.”