[ TT ] You have a gift for talking to inanimate objects . Alongside many perks , it makes you an excellent thief ... but you only steal things that want to be stolen .

Ricky stood in the middle of the room listening to the babble. All the voices echoed their delusions at being confined in such a home. They were unhappy, that much was certain. But that did n't necessarily mean they were worth stealing. 
 You see, Ricky could hear inanimate objects. Their thoughts, feelings, dreams. He once broke into a house and ended up having an existential conversation with the toaster. The point was, he'd developed a respect for these lil guys, and more than anything he enjoyed taking them not for the monetary value, but their personal value. Enjoyable companions. 
 
 Ricky stood listening to the small symphony rebounding and calling to him. He listened for the desperate voices mostly, the ones most keen on conversation. Things like the bedside table always said crude jokes, or the lamps always wanted to'travel the globe'. Friggin dad jokes! From a lamp! 
 Slowly he'd tune in though. Who was speaking confidently. Not panicking, desperation in their voice, but they had character enough to keep calm under a potential winner. 
 
 One voice though did begin to loose its cool. 
 
'I say! Oh I say! Please listen to me good sir! Please!?' 
 
 Ricky was trying to place it in the room. Not either of the bedside tables. Neither the chest of drawers. The earrings giggled as he picked up the box, complementing him on his silky smooth hands. He wandered towards the mirror in the corner, sitting besides the window. 
 
'Not to worry matey, I'm all good here. Great views both ways hahah!' 
 
 Ricky's forehead broke out into wrinkles of frustration. His mouth crisped into a frown as he searched with his ears again. 
 
'Damn it man! I'm suffering here!' 
 
 This particular voice was losing its cool now. Getting real desperate. 
 
'You do n't get it! I'm only used every fucking day! I want a break! They're crazy too. Always the same stuff. You got ta help me!?' 
 
 Ricky had moved towards the closet as the voice began to break into sobs. This one was obviously scared. It did not enjoy his purpose. He opened the closet door and heard the sobs emanating from a cardboard box with clothes piled on top of it. 
 
'No worries fella, what's your name? I'll grab you out from under there' said Ricky. 
 
'Bi..Brandon. Brandon... Biggles' said a muffled voice from under the clothes. 
 
 Ricky pulled the clothes to the side and saw the contents of the box. Lying length ways on top of a pile of junk was a big black— 
 
 Suddenly the lights came...
