I'm too sexy for this burglary, too sexy...
Carefully stowing the drive away, I take a close look at the window. If I can just leave here, maybe just swing out and up onto the roof...
This is for adding a Search Category to the thread.
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I'm too sexy for this burglary, too sexy...
Carefully stowing the drive away, I take a close look at the window. If I can just leave here, maybe just swing out and up onto the roof...
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It looks like the large picture window is fixed-frame--she can't see any sort of opening mechanism, and it appears the pane has been puttied in place. There was another window, downstairs, in the room with the picture frames; Zinta recalls its smaller size and sash design, and if her memory of the house's design is correct she could theoretically reach the roof with some careful wall-crawling outside.
Theoretically.
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I weigh my options, retreating from the window and then slowly returning the mannequin back to it's proper place. I'm somewhat tempted to do something cute; maybe leave a note inside the velcro'd hidey hole, but that's the kind of crap that doesn't accomplish anything.
I'll save my acts of defiance for The Lily.
Slipping back down the creaky stairs, I try to put more weight on the handrail to keep the noise down. When that's done, it's time to see if I can make it back to my entry point.
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Moving back across the floor, Zinta can hear the music through the door again--Chopin now, the Vivaldi long finished. Nothing else can be heard. She slips back into the sitting room, steps light on the wood. Her breath fogs in the cool air, the hole in the skylight letting in the chill.
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I'm not one to dilly dally at the grocery store, and that's doubly true for a crime scene. Skipping the carabiner, I grab the rope and push off the floor, inverting myself and scaling six feet of rope in a half second.
OK, five feet and four inches of rope... happy?
Twisting the rope around a foot and using the other to bind it, I do another inversion, taking me onto the roof.
Pausing for anything that might happen/OK to proceed...
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For a few seconds, I savor the cool night breeze rushing through my hair and ears. The smell of the trees and sounds of crickets, so different from the air conditioning and Vivaldi. It's not a Greenpeace moment, it's a hot damn I'm out moment.
And the moment's up.
Securing my self once more, I climb up to my cross-rope and slide my carabiner onto the prusik. Looping on knee over the rope as well to distribute my weight, I pull myself hand-over-hand back to my tree.
Once I'm on the ground, it's time to head home.
The ropes? Fuck 'em. I just cut a hole in the guys skylight, it's not like he isn't gonna know someone was there.
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It's an uneventful trek back to her car, allowing Zinta to focus on her sense of accomplishment at a job well done. She may be leaving behind some rope but whatever's in that hard drive has easily got to make up for it. Harry's going to be thrilled when she brings it in.
Not that he necessarily has to know right away. Sometimes a girl gets curious.
End scene.
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