Thieves are Superstitious Folk

I once worked with a man who refused to do a job unless he had fed a cat that day. Said it kept him light on his feet.

— Jasper Cameron, Leader of The Bronze Ravens.

Anyone trained by Relsk would tell you two things: you couldnt take without also being willing to give, and repition is the key to success. As she made her way towards the designated meeting spot for tonight's guild activities she went over the list in her head.
Her day had started with a visit to the baths, where she washed with a special soap (stolen last month from a nobels estate). After that she had gone to the market square for breakfast. A wonderfully greasy bacon and egg sandwich lifted from the renowned stand of Rocco the Spirit. After enjoying that from her favorite lookout she went down to the docks and aquired some whiskey from the docks, which she...
Oh NO! She hadnt exchanged the whiskey for funds from the church, and she never even stopped by the orphanage, not good NOT GOOD!
"I have to go," She told her companion. "I just realized that I have forgotten something."
It was more superstition than religion, but every time she skipped a step something went wrong. Two years ago she had gotten a different breakfast and James had slipped and fallen during their escape, beaking his leg leading to his retirement. Six months past she had stolen a bottle of rum instead of whiskey and Sigrid had lost her pinky to one of the guard dogs that woke up sooner than expected from their drugging.
And tonight there was no room for error, they were robbing a ball at The Estate of Ishmael Tenebris. More things could go wrong now than ever before. And Ishmael guards were even less merciful than the city guard. It was vital that nothing go wrong tonight. The Guildmaster would no doubt understand if she was a few minutes late.