He notices her look and laughs. When he’s around people he knows, sometimes he swipes things just to see if they’ll notice. Sometimes he does it just to reaffirm what they already think of him. (“Careful, Gambit swiped the silverware at dinner.”) It’s a way of keeping himself unaligned, of reminding everyone—including himself—that he is ultimately self-serving. Or that he wants everyone—again, including himself—to actually believe that. Mostly, it works out.

“Oh, you want ta see?” he says, as though it’s something incredibly amazing. And, it is. A bright, glistening diamond on a delicately-crafted chain, found after weeks of casually picking through the stupider things found in the city’s old museums. It holds it up and it catches the moonlight, refracting it onto the rooftop in different patterns as it tilts, slowly.