well I'm stubborn and wrong [OPEN / PLOT]

[backstabbing]

who. isabela & OPEN
what. taking advantage of chaos is what pirates do best
where. zeta district
when. saturday
warnings. isabela is a warning

When the cats are away, the mice come out to play. Or...however the hell that old saying goes.

There's a certain advantage to be taken when a city finds itself thrust into chaos. Unattended shops, people cowering in their homes, few people out and about to stop you from getting your hands wet with valuable. Save for some beasts which Isabela had little trouble flitting around with quick roguish feet, and some mercenaries roaming the streets, it was a fine time to wander out of her apartment alone with a dagger in each hand and a couple of lockpicks hidden somewhere in the confines of her outfit.

It was Satinalia for a woman like Isabela, and she'll be taking advantage of those at their most unguarded. Sure she had been taught better, but it takes her awhile for lessons learned to truly sink in.

Some of the security measures for these shops had proven to be difficult for a woman like Isabela to parse. Too much electronics, not enough locks, but she's found one or two where the owners couldn't afford technology that could stump a woman from a distant past, and she crouches in the shadows, unnoticed by passing mercs and beasts, fiddling with a lock and cursing mildly as it breaks. She reaches into her cleavage to fish out another, eyes narrowed in concentration, but ever on the alert in case someone approached her to either attack or scold her.

Comments

/slides on sunglasses

[herewegoto]

Never know your luck in a free for all, huh?

[There's an odd crackle of static as Kasumi switches off the cloak, suddenly in view behind the crouching woman. Looting wasn't exactly uncommon at the moment- if living in a place like Omega taught people anything it was to embrace the opportunities of the moment (no matter what might be shooting at you). No, what caught her eye about this one wasn't just the clothes, but the lockpicks. Sure, she'd learned the basics of them as a kid on Earth, but to see them here and now was so...well, to quote another one of Shep's friends, primitive. But in a cute way, like watching your grandmother insist on mixing dough by hand rather than by machine.

Traditional.

Her voice stayed light and up-beat, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched where the woman was digging those lockpicks out of.]

Nice storage area. Bet that helps with those pesky lawmen.

[unyieldingly]

Hawke isn't foolish enough to believe Isabela will stay inside. Magic or no, she's out in the thick of things, probably not even fighting. No, if she knows Isabela, she'll be looking for something fun to do. Something devious. It's a bit of a disappointment, especially after what Hawke has so recently gone through. A pirate will always be a pirate, but this isn't the time to be looting. It's the time to help.

She skirts around one of the districts and nearly collides with two men trying to kill another one of those creatures. With a whip of her hand, she sends it crashing backwards into the ground. One of the men turns to her with wide eyes. "A biotic?" he asks, the question going unheard. His companion riddles the creature full of holes and the both of them are off again, leaving her alone.

Or...not so alone.

Turning her head, she spots a flash of white and blue and follows it. "Isabela?"

[debts]

[ She's managed to scrounge a pistol off a dead merc — bully for them, or so that saying goes. It itches at her that even the weaponry here is different — which maybe isn't so much a surprise as an additional foot-note into how fucked up everything is — but Natasha's nothing if not adaptable. (She's used to working in teams, too, but her life hasn't always come pre-stocked in pairs: she can check her own damn corners, thank you.)

Isabela's crouched in the shadows, but like attracts like. Natasha's sure to make noise when she steps closer, boots against concrete. She sounds a little wry when she speaks but it's not wholly unkind; Natasha just has a very dry sense of humor. ]

And I thought I was the only one who loved clearance sales.

dashing through the bullets

[chose]

[this would be a lot easier if she had a squad with her as she's used to, but Shepard has little qualms about searching the streets alone, walking low and quietly with rifle ready.

no survivors on this street so far, she had to decrypt a few locks to make sure...but she doesn't lower her guard. not even when, to her surprise, she sees someone else working the street.

Shepard hurries over, scanning around on the way for any sight for trouble, and throws herself backwards against the wall next to Isabela and the door she's trying to pick]

Anyone in there? [a beat, staring] ...What are you using?

[spacecancer]

[ Chaos brought out riots in the streets, stampedes and pushing and shoving everyone in your path to survival. But in the quietest corners, it's a different sort of opportunism; Thane knows to expect thieves. Granted, this one reminds him a little of the children on the Citadel, with only modest tools and quick fingers to cause trouble. And maybe that's why he stops to observe for a moment.

(Or maybe he can't move along in good conscience without saying something.)

Normally, he'd put some weight behind his steps to let others know he was in the room. A matter of politeness. But for a fellow 'rogue,' it hardly seems necessary— when he approaches, it's with near-silent footfalls. ]

If you're looking for shelter, there are more... accessible venues.

[ The dry edge to his tone doesn't sound nearly as naive as the words do. ]