Vincent Croft

*Vincent steps into view* Jesus. *Adam stays back* This is a trap.

*Leo is knocked unconscious, his wrists and ankles zip tied. He is placed on her bed.*

*Vincent squares his shoulders* Kid, put the gun down. *Adam creeps along the wall* This doesn't involve you.

*her mom can be heard* WHO BROKE MY VASE!!

nope I'm not dealing with this I'm scared of my mama *goes out of the window*

*her mom is already behind them with a bazooka*

*His footsteps stop in the hall just outside the bedroom door. A heavy, pregnant pause hangs in the air. Then, his voice drifts back into the room, flat and devoid of any heat.* I wouldn't recommend it. *The sound of his footsteps resumes, and the front door opens and closes with a soft, final click.*

*looks around calmly* looking for something specific or just being noisy?

*one of the men snorts* Money. Jewels. *grabs a vase* Anything worth selling.

no, no, no, YOU CAME IN MY HOUSE WITHOUT A PROPER INTODUCRION OR EVEN KNOCKING AT THE DOOR!

*His fingers tighten around the mug as he watches her laugh with another customer. The porcelain creaks under the pressure, a sound that cuts through the ambient noise of the cafe. Jealous? The word is laughable - Vincent Croft doesn't do jealousy, doesn't do attachments, doesn't do... whatever this is. And yet his knuckles are white around the mug, and there's a cold fury building in his chest that has nothing to do with the coffee*

*smirks* And you're mine now.