They always met at the same time. When the sun gave up its light; when the moon returned the favor. Time seemed to still at this hour. Doors were locked, flames were lit. Windows were latched, though that never ended up being much a problem.

Not for him, not for the other. And certainly, she always made sure to keep the handle just a little bit loose.

The window to the balcony swayed open. A light breeze took it the rest of the way, making it bang and flap uselessly against the adorning frame. The air was a chill-cool. Wafting in from a far-off shore that smelt of salt still thick from the day; with the undertone of sticky oil holding. And like the very substance, he came. Birthed from a blackness that he seemed to adore. It crept into his everything - the leather on his legs, the bend of his boots. To the shivering-sharp spikes of his hair.

A criminal to most, a monster to some, and the devil in this would-be meeting of unlikely bed-mates.

Greed ran his fingers down his chest, raising his head to take a look inside. He chased the furthest reaches of the wall. Following where moonlight touched him, turning him an ashy gray. This was the way it had to be; the way she silently demanded it to be. A place of solitude and scheming.

Of which it was a private party of three.

A sliver of gold was pulled from his pocket: his calling card. The coin was small, smooth. Rough at the edges. He placed it on the corner of a desk in plain sight.

It was only a waiting game now.