Peace and Quiet - a_carrion_crow
Bernard and Monica Emory hosted a September party every year. In their younger days, it celebrated the return of their five children to boarding school. Now, with those children grown, it was merely held out of tradition. There was dinner and toasting and some dancing. While the separation was much more unofficial than at other parties Gotham's elite held, there was often a division between the younger members and the older.
Helena Kyle slipped out of the billiard room, coughing briefly from the cigar smoke. An hour there, listening to war stories from tired old men and being "taught" how to play pool, and she didn't even have one firm promise of a check for the Lance Center. All her trouble had simply earned her a coughing fit for the rest of the night.
The young woman found Mr. Emory's study at the back of the house's main floor, the door unlocked. It was the furthest room from the commotion of the older crowd, and the younger group were even louder upstairs. She let herself in, glad for the quiet. She turned on the desk lamp before throwing herself onto the fainting couch in the room. It looked like an antique, but she doubted it was more than a few years old. Most of the things in this house weren't worth half what they looked like. Even the jewels in Mrs. Emory's grand necklace were fake.
Not that anyone untrained in assessing valuables would notice. While her mother had done a pretty good job raising her, Helena knew she'd also been taught a few bad habits. One was at least thinking like a thief, even if she never stole anything.
Helena rested her head on the arm of the couch, closing her eyes. Peace and quiet. She deserved a rest after her suffering in the billiard room.
Helena Kyle slipped out of the billiard room, coughing briefly from the cigar smoke. An hour there, listening to war stories from tired old men and being "taught" how to play pool, and she didn't even have one firm promise of a check for the Lance Center. All her trouble had simply earned her a coughing fit for the rest of the night.
The young woman found Mr. Emory's study at the back of the house's main floor, the door unlocked. It was the furthest room from the commotion of the older crowd, and the younger group were even louder upstairs. She let herself in, glad for the quiet. She turned on the desk lamp before throwing herself onto the fainting couch in the room. It looked like an antique, but she doubted it was more than a few years old. Most of the things in this house weren't worth half what they looked like. Even the jewels in Mrs. Emory's grand necklace were fake.
Not that anyone untrained in assessing valuables would notice. While her mother had done a pretty good job raising her, Helena knew she'd also been taught a few bad habits. One was at least thinking like a thief, even if she never stole anything.
Helena rested her head on the arm of the couch, closing her eyes. Peace and quiet. She deserved a rest after her suffering in the billiard room.