[Complete] Call the Locksmith?

The tithe house a was a large warehouse with a broad, double-door entrance guarded at night by two men, three stories of ivy-laced stone facade, and two chimneys at either side of a steeple roof. Edging the property of the chantry complex, templars made rounds on the cobbled streets it faced every fifteen minutes or so.

Helena gently, finger by finger, peeled off her gloves and looked up at Sonny with a crumpled bottom lip. Stella rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "What kinda rookie is he?" she thumbed at Sonny, scoffing, to the boss, "I don't get why you gotta bring more and more people on these jobs anyway," she rambled on, a jealous edge in her argued whisper.

Meanwhile, Helena had her gloves off, and folded it contemplatively looking at Colton, hearing the uncomfortable disbelief in his utterance while the other two were off in their own world. He was young garbage - she could to tell. But if he had a shred of the Maker's conscious in him, he'd back out and find a more honorable life. 

So, are you out? she asked, stepping beside him with a deep, smoky challenge in her voice. Her eyes narrowed with indiscernible judgements like black lace layered on black lace. What kind of man was he, to steal from the Chantry? And only if it were clean? Whatever that meant. At Helena's question, Stella looked curiously at Colton, as if she and Helena were of the same mind of kicking this street rat out of their real hunt.