Prime Cut Heist

A gleaming silver tray sat unattended on a low lounge table, carrying a thick, seared steak that smelled far too fancy for a place like this. You wanted five-star? I crept along the underside of the leather bench, keeping low to the dark tile. My long arms reached up over the rim of the tablecloth, claws sinking straight into the tender, greasy meat. With one swift yank, I pulled the entire cut down into the shadows. The porcelain clattered, a tiny splash of sauce spotted the polished floor, and I scuttled straight under the ventilation duct with my prize before anyone even turned around.