He caught me and took his hat back on the roof the Spiced Sun--the undisputably best spice shop in the entire city, if you ask anyone with decent taste.
It's not too expensive, 'sfar as spices go. I've never had much money, so I'm not the type to go spending it on saffron, but if you manage to nab a few nice, juicy rats from the sewer, a few herbs will go a long way on that stringy meat.
Nick and I get something of an employees' discount there, to boot. See, there's a catch to the Spiced Sun's ridiculously low prices and above-average flavoring: snuggling. A nifty little word I coined, 'cause they smuggle snuff. Get it?
It's okay, Nick calls me stupid, too.
The point is, they deal something nasty and we do some yard work for 'em. Used to be just loading and unloading sacks from carts, but now we do some shadier work for them, like guarding questionable warehouses and breaking peoples' knees. I've started to run numbers, even, here and there. All in all, it's a pretty nice set-up.
I admit, I used to wonder about it all, when I saw people coming out of the spice store, their eyes bright red and their skin yellow, so yellow. Almost green. But we need the money, and these people have a choice to give it to us. It's not really our fault; they ask and we give.
I'm not a bad person.
Right?
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Thief, Inc. (Periodic Updates)
Teen FictionTwo thieves struggling to make something of their lives in a world of deadly addiction. In the end, which is the most important: money, morals, or midnight snacks?
