[Complete] Call the Locksmith?

On a good day with a good crew this job would be a breeze, an easy in and out under the cover of darkness. But this wasn’t his job and he didn’t pick the crew. Every alarm bell was ringing in Colton’s head as he took his first look at the grounds and the team assembled. He estimated there was an almost seventy percent chance someone wasn’t making it out, hell, all of them could land in the Guards dungeons or worse.

He’d scoff as Stella thumbed his way, calling him out as a rookie. [color=#c10300]“Now, now wee lass, don’t be finding fault in my good eye,”[/color] tossing her a wink for good measure. [color=#c10300]“I just don’t like fuckin’ with the Chantry.”[/color] That much was true. Especially growing up in Kirkwall. [color=#c10300]“Nothin’ was said about this job involving the Chantry. Tin Can’s take fingers and I like keeping all mine. Kinda need ‘em.”[/color] A hand fell in the space between them, lockpick danced over and between his fingers in deft display of their nimbility. It was slipped away back into its hiding place before the shadow drew next to him.

Colt’s gaze fell on her as she echoed the same vein of questioning as Stella. It piqued his instincts more that this whole job was reeking of spoiled fish. [color=#c10300]“And if I am? You ain’t gonna get far without a locksmith. Might as well go home sweetheart, the plan is fucked if I decide to hop it. Or you gonna try forcing it? Tricky since it’s likely got wards to sink your wee magic tricks.” [/color]

Now his back straightened, correcting the slouched posture for his full 6’4’’. He let his still expression linger on the mage a moment before searching for the boss’s take on Colt’s assessment of this bullshit task.