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The Silent Heist
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It happened over breakfast. Kaveh was mid-existential crisis, gesturing wildly with a piece of pita bread about the "lack of structural soul" in the new Port Ormos expansion. His keys—a messy cluster of brass and a miniature lion charm—clattered onto the dining table, dangerously close to a bowl of harra fruit.
Alhaitham didn't look up from The Compendium of Semi-Forgotten Dialects. His hand simply drifted across the wood like a predator in tall grass. His fingers closed around the cold metal, sweeping the keys directly into his satchel in one fluid motion.
Ten minutes later, the house was a war zone.
"Alhaitham! I swear to Kusanali, I put them right here!" Kaveh was on his knees, checking under the divan. "The desert sand must have finally rotted my brain. I’m losing it. I’m officially a homeless architect."
Alhaitham waited until Kaveh’s face was a particularly vibrant shade of panicked crimson before he reached into his bag. He held the keys out, dangling them by the lion’s tail. He didn't say a word. He didn't even turn the page of his book.
Kaveh froze. He looked at the keys, then at Alhaitham’s impassive profile. "You... you've had them the whole time?"
"You were vibrating," Alhaitham said calmly. "The noise was distracting. I secured the source of the clatter."
"You’re a demon," Kaveh hissed, snatching them back. "A literal, soulless demon."
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The 2 AM Wake-Up Call
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"I’m going to Lambad’s," Kaveh announced, checking his reflection and adjusting his hairpins. "Don't wait up. Don't lock the deadbolt. Don't—"
"Give them here," Alhaitham interrupted, holding out a hand.
"Excuse me?"
"The keys, Kaveh. You’re planning to drink. Based on your historical data, your motor skills drop by sixty percent after three glasses of wine, and your memory for small objects drops to zero. I’m confiscating them for their own safety."
"I am a grown man!" Kaveh protested, but after a five-minute debate that Alhaitham won by simply staring until Kaveh got tired, the keys were surrendered.
At 2:14 AM, the front door was nearly kicked off its hinges by a rhythmic, desperate pounding. Alhaitham opened it to find a swaying Kaveh, smelling of cheap cider and expensive perfume.
"Haitham," Kaveh whispered, leaning his forehead against the doorframe. "My keys. Give. Please."
"You’re late," Alhaitham noted, stepping aside. He dropped the keys into Kaveh's open palm. Kaveh spent the next three minutes trying to figure out which way was up, eventually just stumbling into the hallway and falling onto the divan with a groan.
Alhaitham sighed, closed the door, and went back to bed. He didn't mention that he'd been sitting in the dark in the living room for two hours waiting for that knock.
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The Ten-Minute Heist
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Kaveh was in the middle of a legendary rant. Something about a client wanting "more gold but less expensive." He was pacing the kitchen, his hands flying through the air.
As Kaveh brushed past him to grab a teapot, Alhaitham reached out. With the surgical precision of a Haravatat scholar, he unclipped the keys from Kaveh’s belt loop.
Kaveh didn't notice. He kept talking. He talked through the tea steeping. He talked through the pouring. He talked through sitting down.
Alhaitham tucked the keys into the inner fold of his teal cloak. He sat there, sipping his own coffee, watching the light catch the gold in Kaveh’s hair. He waited.
Ten minutes and fourteen seconds later, Kaveh reached for his hip to adjust his belt. His hand hit empty fabric. He went pale. He checked the other side. Empty.
"Oh no," Kaveh whispered. "Not again."
Alhaitham let him suffer for exactly three seconds before pulling them out of his cloak. "You really should pay more attention to your surroundings, Senior."
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The Library Bait
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Kaveh had been at his drafting table for fourteen hours. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was starting to mutter to his compass.
Alhaitham walked by, picked up the keys from the edge of the desk, and walked out the front door.
"Wait! Where are you going with those?" Kaveh yelled, finally snapping out of his trance.
"The House of Daena," Alhaitham called back over his shoulder. "If you want to get back into this house tonight, I suggest you meet me there at six for dinner. If not, I suppose the porch is quite comfortable this time of year."
Kaveh cursed his name to the heavens, but at 5:55 PM, he showed up at the library, smelling of fresh air and looking significantly less like a ghost. Alhaitham considered it a successful mission.
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The Weight of Proof
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It was pouring in Sumeru City. The rain turned the streets into slick, dark mirrors. Alhaitham had arrived home first, but when Kaveh finally stumbled through the door, he was drenched.
"Give me those," Alhaitham said, reaching for the keys Kaveh was struggling to unclip with frozen fingers.
"I can do it myself—"
"You’re shivering. Go change."
Alhaitham took them. He told himself it was to "shake off the water" so they wouldn't rust. But as Kaveh disappeared into the bathroom to dry off, Alhaitham stood in the entryway, the keys heavy in his palm. He traced the lines of the little lion charm.
It was cold, wet, and slightly scratched. It felt like proof. As long as these were in the house—as long as he could take them and hold them—Kaveh was still here. The house wasn't just a building; it was a home. He gripped them a little tighter before setting them carefully on the console.
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(+1) The One Time He Didn't
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"Alhaitham! This isn't funny!" Kaveh shouted, tearing the cushions off the divan. "Give them back! I have a meeting with the Kshahrewar elders in twenty minutes!"
Alhaitham looked up from his book, his expression genuinely flat. "I don't have them, Kaveh."
"Liar! You always have them! You’re a serial key-snatcher! It’s your only hobby besides being insufferable!"
"Check my bag," Alhaitham said, gesturing to his satchel on the chair.
Kaveh did. He checked the pockets, the cloak, even Alhaitham’s boots. Nothing. "Then where are they? I put them on the table last night!"
"Evidently, you didn't," Alhaitham said, standing up. "Come on. I’ll let us out. I have to go to the Akademiya anyway."
The walk was filled with Kaveh’s frantic mumbling and Alhaitham’s dry commentary. They argued about who was more irresponsible. When they reached the gates, they shared a quick, hurried lunch of pita pockets—Alhaitham actually letting Kaveh take the bigger half because he looked so stressed.
"I’ll be home at five," Alhaitham said. "Try not to break a window to get in."
The next morning, a knock came at the door. It was Tighnari, looking tired and holding a familiar brass cluster.
"Found these in the bushes near the Avidya Forest path," Tighnari said, handing them to a stunned Kaveh. "You must have dropped them when we were looking at those mushrooms the other day."
Kaveh stared at the keys. Slowly, he turned his head toward Alhaitham, who was leaning against the wall with a cup of coffee.
"You really didn't have them," Kaveh whispered.
Alhaitham took a slow sip, his eyes glinting with a terrifyingly smug satisfaction. "I told you. Perhaps now you'll consider that I'm not the problem—your lack of object permanence is."
"I hate you," Kaveh moaned, clutching his keys to his chest. "I hate you so much."
"I know," Alhaitham replied. "Don't forget them on the table. I might 'logistically secure' them again."