At the very least, the train ride is nice and relaxing. It always has been, at least to me. I have a feeling Cat feels the same with the slight smile they get staring out the window and gazing into the distant view that rocks with the motions of the ride. Their hands sit delicately in their lap while they keep their head turned. I’ve never been one for scenic views, but it always makes me happy to see Cat enjoying themselves. They’ve been so sad and distant lately. We both have, really. On the first train we took from the city to the small town, we were jubilated. We had a whole new life ahead of us. We’d saved up what we could while on the streets, huddling up for warmth every night until we felt we could make ourselves a new home.

Fat chance of that happening. It feels awful, strolling into town with every person staring at you like a disgusting creature out of a lab. Worse still, only finding a rickety old shack that’s barely better than having no home when we lived in the city. It’s not like they couldn’t build us a new house easily, they’re amazing carpenters in Railsent. But they didn’t. And refuse to. We cling to this hope that we can keep at our old field of work until they’ll accept us through money, but Cat is right. It’s not about the money. We’re outsiders. Outsiders with no home, nary a penny to our names after we’d given them all we had for the shack. Nobody welcomes us or even bothers to offer a chance to introduce ourselves. Honestly, the complete ignorance of the city folk was better than what we deal with now, but all we have to hold onto is the flimsy hope that things will eventually get better. Well, holding onto hope, and…

Cat turns their attention to me for a moment as I shake my head. I must have been grimacing that whole while, one arm on the windowsill and the other holding onto my own shoulder.

“You okay, Fox…?”

Glancing up at them once I tidy my expression into something a little less painful, I see their sad face staring down at me. Not the usual sad of course, concerned sad. The usual sad is what I saw looking at their face during those cold nights on the city street. I try to look strong for them, though that’s not the easiest task.

“Fine. I’m fine. Just thinking…” I offer them. A vague answer, sure, but talking about these things always hurt. I prefer to just not say anything, yet Cat can tell. They’ve always been the more emotionally aware of the two of us. At the very least, it’ll be nice to get it off my chest. “...About what we were talking about earlier.”

Their gaze falls with mine. At the very least we understand each other. We don’t have anyone else in the world but each other. Well, there’s someone else, but we’re very unsure about them. Unsure in a lot of ways…I turn my head to conceal my face in case I end up blushing. Thinking about that person, and Cat… It fills me with such strange feelings. As comfortable as I am with them, I’d prefer to just not think about it at the moment.

Perfect timing as well, with the train coming to a slow stop before the doors open up for us. Standing up, surprise takes me as I feel Cat’s hand on mine before they pull themselves up to a standing position. Oh. I must have absentmindedly held my hand out for them. Nevertheless, we step out of the train and make a swift exit out of the station, finding a nearby alleyway and taking refuge for a moment.

“Golden Manor?” Cat asked, and I nod, affirming the location of tonight’s job. 

We never bother to learn the actual names of these residencies, they were all just rich people with too much time and money, and not enough interior design sense. As soon as we’re ready, we take a swift turn around the corner and dash along the sidewalks, staying close to darker areas. We might not know the name of every dingy little shop in this city, but we know how to navigate it like it’s instinct, through the streets and alleys, no map needed. Hell, we’re sure we could use the roofs if we could jump that far. Not having a phone in this day and age really makes you figure out how to do things on your own, but god, a phone would be so nice.

Twisting and turning through lanes and alleys, our steps and bodies concealed in the night as we dash under windows and away from any moving lights. It doesn’t take us long to find it: the Golden Manor. It’s pretty clear why we call it such. It’s disgustingly golden, gaudy and repulsive to the mind and the eyes. At least the blues and whites go well with the gold, but there’s just too much damn gold. That’s just what we like to see, though: Personal taste over functionality. The heist is on.

Contrary to our methods before, we know to stick to the most golden areas. It’s clear the owner lavishes themselves in the brightest, shiniest, most attention grabbing aesthetic they can, which resulted in a crucial flaw: The lights on their security cameras reflected right back at the lens, off the gold and into the recording device, which may not be enough to completely trivialize the security, but it’s enough to set our plan into motion. A hop is all it takes to get over the wall bordering the manor. It was like nothing after Cat and I had spent years and years bouncing around the forests outside the city as kids, then the streets inside as teens and adults. Hugging the wall for but a moment, my hand slides down to grasp at Cat’s as they stand stiff as nails next to me. I feel their body relax with the squeeze of my hand and then we’re off. 

We’ve never been to a rave ourselves, only heard of such things, but if there was anything we could compare to those, it would be sneaking around this gaudy light show. Only instead of weaving around merry folk, we dash about the lights, around the gardens and ponds, just until we make it to the center of the courtyard. There stands an awful, fully gold statue of what we can only assume is the owner of this place: some chiseled, suited hunter type with a dog by his side. Good thing neither of us are actually a fox nor a cat. Carefully sliding around the base of the giant monument, breath calm and movements deliberate, we anticipate the approaching security drone, and just as the light hits the statue, we brandish our flashlights from our belts and shine them directly onto the camera lens, then dashing past as quickly as we can. The security has never been touched up once in all our raids on this manor, so it’s safe to say they’ve never questioned a momentary increase in the usual brightness. 

The center of the courtyard was our only real point of concern, being completely strung together by flashing drones, like a bright as hell display of overcompensation. With that behind us now, we soon find ourselves skipping around more lights and up to the walls of the manor. This is where Cat’s specialty comes in: infiltration. Once we’re in, we’re as good as… Ugh… Gold… I look up to my partner as they survey the darkened area, only the moonlight barely shining down on us through the light-polluted sky. Cat looks down to me and nods, then thrusts their chin up for my gaze to follow. It’s a tall ass building, and from the looks of what Cat’s gathered, the most well guarded part would be as high up as possible. This guy just loves putting himself on a pedestal. With a nod in return, we get to work, scanning the first floor’s windows and finding only a few patrolling guards. With so many rooms that gives us the perfect opportunity to sneak around them through their own halls.

Barely leaning over the sill of one of the many windows, I catch Cat out of the corner of my eye gesturing to regroup. Without a second thought, I zip over and they immediately take my hand, guiding us over to the right side of the building and under the window they’ve chosen. They’ve always had a better eye for slipping into places than I have, but as soon as we’re in, it’s my turn. Cat stands up so their eye level is just above the windowsill, deftly revealing a knife, more like a letter opener, from their belt. They gauge the security of the window by swiftly sliding the blade under the window. After a bit of fiddling, I can even see them hold their tongue out as they concentrate. Something clicks, and their face brightens, thankfully not literally, but it’s clear they’ve unlocked the window, or at the very least, disarmed it. Climbing up further, they get their feet on the windowsill (how they manage to balance on things like that, I’ll never know), and with quick but gentle hands, they slide open the window. No alarm, we’re in the clear. Cat throws themselves in and lands without a sound, and I heave myself over and in before closing the window carefully. 

We find ourselves in the silent manor, not a gust of wind could be heard from outside. It’s an oppressive kind of silence, but one we’re all too familiar with by now, a silence we can thankfully contribute to with our silent shoes. We saved a lot of our loot to buy our gear, but it’s all too worth it. We even had to homebrew some of it, which Cat was always proud of, and I can’t blame them. So here we stand, silently in what appears to be a dining room for guests, a few tables sprawled out with little plates already set up for their next visit. This room alone must have a capacity of 24 people. Who the hell knows 23 other posh idiots to invite for tea? And, of course, everything is adorned with gold. Even the tablecloths have a gold trim to them. Above them is an awful display of golden animal statues clinging to the walls, along with an unlit chandelier. It’s important to observe such things, just in case--

Click.

Woosh.

Silence.

A guard enters the room, flashlight illuminating the room all too well as it reflects off the multitude of gold ornaments. How they can even see what they’re doing is beyond me, but after a quick inspection of a seemingly empty room, they exit through an entrance on the other side, their dress shoes clacking loudly along the marble floor. In that instant, we descend from the ceiling using my grappling hook, padded for the utmost quiet. Thank god for me that Cat is fairly light and clings to me tightly. As our feet meet the ground, we make a swift exit through the door the guard had entered from.

The plates of the last room might have fetched us something decent, but with how meticulously they were laid out, I can’t imagine it going unnoticed. Instead, we begin to search this new room. It’s a living area of sorts complete with full bookcases, lavishly cushioned couches and chairs, and of course, a dead fireplace with a golden deer skull mounted above it. Rich people… Oh how I wish I could pry all the frivolous things these people buy from their uncaring hands… We toiled and starved on the streets, while they use their fortune to flaunt that very fortune? It disgusts me. That’s part of the reason Cat and I began doing this in the first place, but we can’t just take their prized monument. Our job is to get in, take anything that wouldn’t be missed, and get out. If word starts getting out about two serial cat burglars and our lives become that much harder… 

Thankfully, this room is filled with all sorts of nooks and crannies to explore. Our feet are already on the move, making quick work of the room. A few of these books wouldn’t be missed, doubt they even read them… Cat finds a necklace on the coffee table between the fireplace and the largest couch. It seems so carelessly placed that it must be forgotten, so they stash it. A watch collection…? They’re all synced up so perfectly within their pristine boxes, but they appear unevenly spaced, gaps between places watches should be, yet there are still so many of them. I take one, then turn to Cat who gives a thumbs up. Seems like the area’s been cleared. This should be enough to last us and to build up our savings. 

Moving back to the door we came from, I press my ear to its surface and listen carefully. No noise. The guards must move in circles, not helped by how few of them there are. We quickly make our way back to the window we came in and are soon dashing away once more. It doesn’t matter much now that we’re out, but our insulated belts hold our loot without making a sound, letting us move around as quickly as we need to. I tend to curse this bulkier body of mine, but the extra strength at least means I’m not slowed down from what we grab. Our exit is as simple as the journey in, hauling myself up the border around the manor and offering a hand down to help Cat up. We both breathe a sigh of relief, looking at one another and nodding with serious expressions. I can’t explain it, but something doesn’t feel right after our heists now. We used to enjoy them so much, but as cleanly as we make them, neither of us seem to have the fun we did when we were younger. Regardless, I stow those worries away and we make our way back into the thick of the city.