You have to be careful mixing euphoric states with youth, it can spiral down instead of up as they lose connection with the all the strings of skill, caution, and concern for their own well being. It is when many of the ‘lessons’ older generations talk about get learned over a pot of sobering coffee or in worst cases, a pool of blood. And for the first time in a while, Locke was about to get served a hot steaming cup. Blood or coffee it was impossible yet to tell.
Cradled in the crowd’s mindless pace he could drift off to the wilds beyond this city, beyond this continent. Back to Kelhar. To mud paved streets of poverty and desperation…and adventure. Dust collected on memories blurring their realities to allow fondness for the times of his first year. When he picked pockets not just because he had too, but because he liked it. Because of the animal it let loose in his blood to be able to take, to claim something for his own. Then that boy had been too clever...but the world seemed to take a turn up. How was he to know it was an upside….down turn-
It was when the corners of his lips began to slide like a faded ghost down, that his gut tensed. Was that red- Chained ear turns to catch the low steady words while feathers raise slightly unbidden on his back. Emerald eyes return the flick of a glance, before looking back away to several mares rolling their shoulders and hips more than a lioness on the hunt. But his analytic thoughts were far from his (admittedly, realistically, paid for) romantic possibilities for the night. It was rolling through thoughts like, tall, muscled, horned, violence, witnesses...Extreme maybe, but he’d never known an auspicious start to include, a stranger walking up to him at the market.
A feathered side brushes against his, and the message, unfortunately, could not misinterpreted, but why? Perhaps it was to try and sell him something from a darker side of the market, in that alley. It could happen- Caught. Or not. The young thief's face was kept in its pleasant state, (not easy with the richeting echo of the word ameteur in his ears) but his sweeping glance across the street now held a different purpose. Perhaps he had indeed been gone from streets like this for too long to think himself still so skilled at its trades, but the survival instincts began to click on like ancient lamps in those spider web covered halls of his mind. No one followed. No one glanced. But a quick slip off of the hook was out of the question in the foreign city of crowds. Shit.
Yet the world was always prepared for the idiocy of youths, and graced them with a willful determination to not be sucked under the waves of reality and consequence. So the boy lets himself be led away to the side street, even as his escort announced his guilt in such a matter of fact dead tone, that not a ghost of protest was allowed to rise on the boy’s lips.
This was not a game. Locke didn’t- but...he had, hadn’t he. A great laugh, a bit of meaningless fun. It seemed so stupid now… To hear the mantle of righteousness and questions of Locke’s safety upon the other’s voice bred frustration, jealousy, and (in no help to his cause at all) petulance. Only one small word kept the boy from turning that rock in the street into an admittedly crude weapon for fear of finding out the hidden ‘or else’ in the other’s words. They, not we. Now in the shadows of the back alley section of the market Locke finally stops and turns his head head to fully look at his watcher, not hiding the calculation in the narrower eyes and tilted head.
Was he...giving a friendly warning? Distrust at the other’s intentions still riddled every conclusion. The dark weight could not be mistaken, but… It wasn’t hiding a threat. It wasn’t shadowing a knife or thief's hand (not that he had yet anything to steal). In his distrust the young haphazard pickpocket let himself soak in the calm authority, experience hardened bearing, and wistful sadness hidden in the smile as they doused the pathetic fires he had been stirring of anger to nothing but envious whims of a youth remembering they could possibly be wrong. And because it wasn’t his first encounter with those whims, the fiery youth ended his assessment of the situation in an accepting dip of his head as he looked onward down the street.
Lanky legs moved forward again, but the conversation wasn’t done. Locke was labeled an ametuer newbie tourist, but- “So where does that leave you?” They not we. It came as the other’s words, spoken in expectation of a continued presence at his side, low but without pitched emotions that drew pesky attention. “It was foolish and brash,” Came the confession, jointed in tone that told of its distaste. “But it was not a virgin pickpocket's first trial.” His glance drifted over to a darkened merchant stall on the other side of his companion, which allowed him to slide an eye to see if the other even followed. Just as the other’s accusation had been made, now he made one too. “Normal eyes are not trained to find those tells…”
Then, even given the distrust the youth had that this was still an innocent friendly chat, the boy volunteers what payment he could return for the warning. “Locke, by the way.” A half, short, side nod settles the introduction. Maybe he was signing his own death warrant, letting one of those underside gangs know just who to ask for. But then, would it truly be so bad to make connections with the right people? Perhaps it was optimistic to still think the night might not end in him getting jumped in the alley, but he hadn’t been yet. And one thing he did remember was the right people did always have the right fun. And as much as the youth wanted to cling to his righteous petulant pride, he would have never survived to his first birthday if he hadn’t occasionally given that up. Even given the recent events, Locke was remembering quickly (brought to light in those cobweb covered rooms of forgotten situations) that a thief stubbornly clinging to isolation and ignorance, was a dead one. One drinker was as called an easy target, two drinkers were called a fun time. So while sobered up the young thief doesn’t leave the bar just yet.
OOC:: @
