Stealing the night ///Wonder///blitz

vol·a·tile [vol-uh-tl] adj. 2. tending or threatening to break out into open violence; explosive.

It's a long time before Lark slips out of his wooden room and falls asleep - she'd spent a few too many nights worrying about his existence than Robin would like, but her friendship was still the best thing he had here. Sprawled across the attic apartment were this weeks spoils, old relic maps (blueprints of ancient government buildings), a couple small silver-chained necklaces he'd yet to distinguish as to the quality, and a couple of plastic pendants that he couldn't help but scoff at - those would fool no one, that is no one but a thief in the dark. All in all, in terms of loot, it was a pretty low brow week, not that it mattered. Under his rotting, ripped mattress sat a small wad of cash, just enough for an emergency fund. A lot less then there should have been, after every outing with Lark he had a tendency to split her half a little bit higher without her knowledge. He wasn't all that sure she knew how to count, because if she did, he was sure she wouldn't take it.

Ever since the 65th reaping, Lark had been wagging on his tail like a little puppy dog, always worried about his susceptibility to inevitable doom. Little did she know that it had taken a lot of suppression not to burst on to that stage to save Sticky Washington. He could of done it, sure, the Games. Big deal. Look what he did every night. The Games were nothing to the slummy streets of six on a night time. "Good night, Lark." He whispered over his walkie talkie before slowly turning the volume module down.

"Ten four!" She chirped back excitedly, before he assumed, she did the same. It was rather chilly in terms of Robin's preference, but winter was dead set upon them. Despite the frost, he refused to wear a coat, mainly out of pure necessity. Coats often were quite loud when it came to terms of movement. Though, also, it was pretty atypical for a district member to walk about with a coat, he would be a key target for a mugging. Not that he didn't think he could get out of it, but he'd rather not have to try. Stalking under the stars, Robin whistled under his breath to pass time, it wasn't smart to rob near his household but the long walk to a meeting point always made him wish that he could without making it obvious.

After a boring ten minutes of skulking, he twiddles up to the location, brash and unafraid, stalking upon a broken Hades. "Got caught by a couple of cops, but don't worry, I bit their heads off and kept walking." He smirked as he approached. "Don't piss your pants now, Hades. Excitement hasn't started yet." Robin looked upon the ashy silhouettes of the suburban area. "Any particular one in mind?"