Stealing

Treton slipped silently in through the open window, the wraps around his feet bound carefully to minimize the amount of sound he would make when doing so. It was the dead of night, and he had been patiently watching the house, waiting for the lights to go out, and then waiting another hour to make sure that the inhabitants had in fact fallen asleep. It wasn't a difficult thing to do - he had been sitting on a bench in the park just across the street, reading a book his brother had lent him and glancing up every fifteen minutes to see how the house was doing.

He had been eyeing this house for some time. He had noticed it one night when he was patrolling the town, several windows remaining open to let in the cool air after a hot summer day. He checked it repeatedly over the course of a month, and without fail, the windows would remain open throughout the night. From within, he could hear the familiar voices, quietly talking and gossiping, and he could hear the displeasure many of them had. He couldn't have asked for an easier target.

The only problem was finding the unhappy ones. He carefully pulled his long hair that he normally wore straight back and into a ponytail, uncovering his ears so that he could better listen. It wasn't much of a barrier, but it did the job of making those small, nearly silent voices even quieter for most of the day, allowing him to function normally. But now he needed to go thieving, and for that he needed to listen.

He softly ran his fingers over the cabinets and drawers, listening to the discussions of the belongings inside of them, listening for which of them dreaded a person's approach. Those were the ones he would steal. The ones that were dissatisfied with their owners and begged for someone to come and steal them in the night so that they could have a better chance at their master. He pulled out a smart phone, a couple gaming systems, several pieces of silverware, and from the wife's bedside table, two different dildos, each wanting freedom from... He was used to hearing about that at this point.

He placed them into a bag on his back that he had customized several years ago to have dozens of different pockets. Into each pocket went a different stolen item, letting him carry them more carefully, meaning they wouldn't scream at him quite so much as he snatched them away. The first year or so of thievery had taught him that little trick.

The final piece was the tv. It was a somewhat older model - table mounted and square, with some depth to it. And a couple dents on the top from someone pounding their fist against it in frustration. He went to it and whispered for it to wait, that he would be back. He needed to pull his car around to the front in order to collect that particular piece of furniture. It was much too large to carry out entirely by hand.

The keys made no complaint as he unlocked the front door and slipped back outside. That was fortunate. Most keys he had to deal with somehow managed to be the loudest things in the house. He walked calmly around the corner and retrieved his car. He had been caught a few times early on because he had been in a rush. It brought too much attention. Another lesson well learned.

He lifted the tv up carefully after pulling its cables loose and heaved it out the front door. Tvs had always been the most difficult things to steal thanks to their weight, but he had grown accustomed to it. It was funny what kind of muscles you built being a thief. Carefully he slid it into the back seat, went back and locked the front door, then drove off. He didn't have to worry about security cameras. He had already made a deal with them.