“Why, Master Lamora, look at you,” said Jean. “Charming a lock, climbing out a window. Almost as though you used to be a thief.” “I was pulling off hanging offenses when you were still teeth-on-tits in your mother’s arms!” “And I’ve been pulling off hanging offenses while you’ve been sulking in your room, drinking away your skills.” “I’m the best thief in Vel Virazzo,” growled Locke, “drunk or sober, awake or asleep, and you damn well know it.” “I might have believed that once,” said Jean. “But that was a man I knew in Camorr, and he hasn’t been with me for some time.”
