“Because I’m not a thief, that’s why.”
“`n why ‘r y’ here?”
Merri sighs. This is the third iteration of this conversation, this night alone. “I just enjoy running it. The Flit, the freedom of it. Do I have to be a thief to like that?”
A pause. “Guess not. But if y’ever do wanna make a fas’ pile of glim…”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She doesn’t bother telling him she’s got more glim piled up than she cares to count. And moon pearls. And jade. It’s not about the money and hasn’t been since I moved out of that wretched abandoned tomb. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”
Rather than try to push past the man, she simply dives off the side of the ledge, catching a flagpole, shimmying up a drainpipe, vaulting to another, hopefully less-populated rooftop. From there she would have run to an improvised bridge, but unfortunately there was someone in the way.
Another sigh, and Merri saunters to a stop. “I say, do excuse me. I’d like to use that bridge, if you wouldn’t mind moving aside for a moment.”