Something Bout a Coat

Kit and Killian had finished their tasks at Carol’s Chum Bucket for this particular trip, meeting with a new client that had handed them a job without any questions about the twins. It was unusual for them, but it seemed their reputation was finally preceding them and they were being paid the respect they deserved for the jobs well done. It had been five years since the twins had taken over following their parents’ arrest, and the two had successfully completed every job they took. Word had spread quickly about their defeat of the mutiny started by the Iril, who was now a captain of a rival ship, and of Killian’s odd return from the death, all while managing to finish the job.
 
Since then, most gigs came in without seeking them out. There was still the odd lull where they had to seek out or fight for a job, but it was rare. Rarer, however, was this new trend of fewer and fewer questions as people handed them high-tier work. And Kit and Killian weren’t about to argue about that. The more work for them, the better.
 
Killian had, unsurprisingly, excused himself to find some new conquests.
 
“No point lookin’ fer a crew when you’re already hungry, dearest,” he had said with a wink before spinning away with a flourish and stalking off towards the more wealthy district of this port city.
 
Kit shook her head, watching as her twin walked through the market, swaggering his hips and making eye contact with every potential victim to gauge their interest. As he vanished amidst the vibrant tapestries and booths, Kit turned towards the less savoury part of the city, one particular destination in mind.
 
It never ceased to amaze and infuriate Kit, the disparity between wealth and poverty. Even between the middle-class and impoverished parts of the cities and towns, it was like night and day. Not even a transition. Kit could literally stand between the two buildings that marked the borders of each side and jump from a building in a decent state to one so far gone in disrepair that it was a wonder it still stood. Even the businesses differed – from rustic, but old wooden signs and the odd cracked wood door on the windows, to split, faded wood signs barely hanging on by a single rusted chain, broken windows, doors that didn’t close. Kit tried not to let herself be distracted by her fury, and continued down the winding road, attempting to ignore the ever-growing disarray and smells in the streets.
 
Finally, about ten minutes later, she found her destination – a dusty, crumbling, hole-in-the-wall pub where pirates and criminals alike tended to gather. For many, there was no difference between a pirate or a criminal, but the twins liked to firmly remind them there were many. The biggest of which, in the twins’ eyes anyway, were that pirates carried more honour than the common criminal. They lived by a code and had their lines. The criminals they encountered never seemed to care who they harmed so long as they got what they came for.
 
The Broken Tankard, aptly named, looked like it should have been an abandoned orcondemned building, barely hanging on. There were cracks in the some of its walls so large that entire villages of mice had made homes in them, with bits of straw, garbage, and the odd little tail or ear poking out. The porch that led to the bar served as both an obstacle course and a test for whoever wanted to enter. The wood planks were all rotted, with some having crumbled leaving huge gaps in the floor and others sticking up, covered in mold, waiting for someone to impale themselves on them. In order to actually get to the bar, you had to be creative.
 
Kit, however, never struggled. Thanks to her agility and strong skills with even the most basic of acrobatic movements, she could make it across in a single leap from the ground to the door, pushing the door in with a slam, making a loud entrance. Everyone always knew when Kit McKenzie had arrived, and that was just the way she liked it.
 
On this particular afternoon, the Broken Tankard was unusually full, but Kit’s entrance was still enough to momentarily draw the attention of most inside. She met the onlookers with a sneer, not willing to let anyone think she was there for anyone other than herself. Of course, the twins would need to recruit a crew from here, but this afternoon? It was for Kit to drink herself under the table, and then start all over again when Killian eventually would arrive.
 
She slid up to the bar and motioned for a drink. The barkeep, a small goblin with pink hair and several earrings in one ear, grunted and climbed onto his stool, pouring a large tankard full for Kit.
 
“You and yer brother won’t be causin’ problems today I hope?” He looked at Kit from under large, bushy eyebrows and attempted a sneer.
 
Kit, stifling a laugh, shook her head. “Tuzzle, we never cause problems dear. We can’t help that people have problems with us.”
 
Tuzzle let out a loud harumph. “Just keep yer hands to yerself and I’ll keep the drinks flowing.”
 
Kit shrugged and lifted her glass, winking at the goblin. Tuzzle stumbled away mumbling about “bloody pirates” but saying nothing further.
 
Several drinks in, Kit finally turned to look around at the rest of the patrons, sizing them all up. Some still stared at the red-haired tiefling every time she moved, others had begun to ignore her. She was about to swing back around to her drinks when something in the corner caught her eye – the most beautiful coat she had ever seen. It was slung over the back of a booth seat behind a tall, slender, blonde elf wearing a captain’s hat. He sat far too properly to have been common-folk turned pirate, and the way he lifted his pinky finger when he sipped at a glass of wine all but confirmed that theory to the tiefling.
 
The coat was quite possibly the most beautiful piece of clothing Kit had ever seen. And the best part? It looked as though it would be highly functional. From wear she sat, the coat appeared to be made of a thin, but sturdy leather, light brown in texture, with slightly darker collars and cuffs, and gold buttons running down the one side. The cuffs appeared to have silk patterns embroidered in them. It was simple, but perfect – in fact there was nothing that made it stand out as exceptional, yet it screamed elegance. In that moment, Kit decided it must be hers.
 
She watched and waited for its owner and his compatriots to make a move from the bench. Eventually, after about an hour, the group excused themselves and made their way to the bathrooms. Kit rolled her eyes. Were they really all heading to do their business as a group like school children? Not that it mattered much, it gave her the opening she needed. Kit, who had quite easily stood out only moments before with her brilliant red hair and presence, suddenly vanished into the crowded tavern, almost as if invisible. She wasn’t, of course. It was a talent she had yet to learn, but fully intended to one day. Still, she was a master at stealth, no matter the circumstances, which had earned her the nickname of “the ghost”. Moments later, she reappeared by her seat, now wearing the coat.
 
A few minutes passed before the elf and his crew emerged, returning to their seats. Kit didn’t turn to watch, but imagined the elf looking around in confusion at his missing coat.
 
Three. Two. One. Kit counted down.
 
“Where the hell did my coat go?” he screeched.
 
Kit nearly choked at the pitch of his voice, not expecting him to sound quite that… pitched. Still, she sat, calmly continuing to drink her ale as the elf screeched again.
 
The tavern fell silent as she heard footsteps approaching. The elf slid in beside her, looking her up and down, as he attempted to flash a seductive smile.
 
“My dear, it appears you found your way inside my coat,” he drawled. “If that’s an attempt to ask me inside, well, it’s working.”
 
This time, Kit did choke, sputtering ale out in front of her as she wheezed a heavy laugh.
 
The elf’s face went bright red.
 
“I’ll take my coat back now wench,” he sneered, grabbing for her arm.
 
Kit shifted off the stool, causing him to stumble towards her.
 
“I think you mean my coat, love,” she said.
 
Sputtering furiously, the elf let out a slew of insults – his ale, unfortunately getting the better of him, the insults became more of a slurred ramble. He stepped forward again, this time managing to grab Kit’s shoulder.
 
“You dare to steal from me?”
 
Again that high pitch squeal emerged as he finished his question.
 
“Love, I wouldn’t do that,” Kit said cooly, looking down at her shoulder.
 
“You think I’m afraid of a little girl?”
 
“Oh, so you’re interested in bedding children then? Well, that changes things.”
 
Kit’s tail whipped up and wrapped around the elf’s wrist, snapping it as the man screamed in pain. There was a moment of silence in the tavern, before all hell broke loose and a massive fight broke out.
 
While the fight was centred on Kit, the elf, and his men, others present had taken advantage of the moment to join the fray simply because it was a fray. Punches were thrown, chairs were smashed over peoples’ heads, and several glasses broke. The odd scream of frustration could be heard from behind the bar where Tuzzle hurled insults in Infernal at Kit. Kit just laughed and continued to fight, smashing one man’s head off a bar, another into the head of the elf, who was now bleeding from a new split above his eye.
 
In the background, the door to the tavern smashed open, splintering into pieces as a shadow of a hulking figure cast into the tavern.
 
“Which one of you vile lugs laid a hand on me sister?” Killian roared.
 
All fighting froze and silence fell. One by one, the patrons pointed at the elf, who was panting. Noticing the fingers identifying him, he whirled around to look at the giant tiefling.
 
“She stole my coat!” he yelled indignantly.
 
Killian glanced at Kit, who just shrugged.
 
“I see me sister wearin’ a coat, but since she’s wearin’ it, it belongs t’her,” Killian said.
 
The elf huffed and attempted to protest.
 
“Are you callin’ me sister a thief, in front of all these gentlemen present?”
 
One of the elf’s men tugged on his arm and leaned up to whisper something in his ear. The elf paled and stared at Killian in horror a moment, then dropped the grip he had taken on Kit’s arm once again.
 
“I’m sorry, I must be mistaken, this was not my coat,” he said, fumbling over his words before he stumbled away.
 
“That’s what I thought,” Killian said with a grin.
 
Kit turned back to the bar, finished her drink, and tossed a bag of coins at Tuzzle. “Sorry for the mess, buddy.”
 
“I’m not your buddy!” Tuzzle shouted as he caught the bag. “And I never want to see you and your brother in here again!”
 
“See you tomorrow dear,” Kit shouted as she turned and walked towards Killian.
 
Tuzzle let out a loud, frustrated harumph from behind the bar.
 
As she reached Killian, she shrugged again. “I think we’re going to need to drink elsewhere tonight.”
 
Killian paused, looked at his sister’s new outfit, and smiled. “Nice coat, dearest.”
 
He draped an arm around his sister, and the two left, the daylight blinding their exit from the view of the other patrons. As they walked away, Kit giggled as they heard the sound of Tuzzle screaming, “Bloody pirates!”