Ropati was already well on his way when Mr. Brennan requested release. Here he thought he’d given all the time needed for … whatever thievery was abound this day, only to find yet another. There was the strong temptation to just close his eyes and pretend he saw nothing.

It grew stronger when the thief spoke. Stronger still when Mr. Brennan recommended them both coming back to a place he already couldn’t leave fast enough. Half-worried that Brennan had seen a son-shaped gap in his soul and decided all he needed was a day to stuff Jesus Christ in there instead.

He stiffened when the young man leaned closer, already imagining himself piled in Christian paraphernalia. A cross around his neck, his wrists, a thousand little glittering chains standing in for the actual chains on that boat--

Blinking, Ropati took his glasses off, puffed on them, and wiped them on his sleeve. Sweet, sweet freedom from looking at anything, if only for a moment.

Apparently, that was all the thief needed to take off in a hasty trot with the vase.

“… Who? No, Peter here’s older than time. I’m surprised he can still get up those three steps.”