Old Ways || Mick & ??? [open]
Life was so boring for Mick. He could stomach not having Rocket around to do what he wanted, but normal society did not make this easy for him. This wasn’t fun. Nothing was fun. This was exactly why he’d joined Rocket the first place. The most exciting thing he got out of a day now was violently misspelling names on the side of coffee cups, but even that got kind of tiresome after a while. He needed to do something fun. Something exciting.
Mick is walking down the sidewalk from his work. It’s cold out and his hands are stuffed into his pants’ pockets. Even at night, Celadon is bustling with activity. Sometimes he misses the quietness of Ecruteak, but at the same time, hell no. This city still stirs up memories of Rocket too. It was their home base in Kanto and, as far as he knew, the Game Corner’s basement still held the hideout underneath. He always wants to sneak back in there for old time’s sake, but never does.
Still, it makes him crave the old days. He wants to be a criminal again. It’s pathetic, in a way, but it’s all he ever knew. It’s all he was ever good at. Every day Mick goes home from work and there’s an inkling of a thought in the back of his head. Maybe, just maybe... he could go back to his ways for a night. Just one night, and then he’d get it out of his system and he could go on his merry way back to his shit job.
Mick stops in the middle of the sidewalk, glancing left and right at the buildings that surrounded him. It... wouldn’t be too bad, would it? If he didn’t get caught? He’s holding up the foot traffic, so he steps to the side, leaning against the cold brick of an apartment complex. Across the street, he can see the blinding neon lights of the Game Corner. His former home. He probably knew it better than anyone else working there now.
He decides to go for it. It’s probably a really poor decision, but Mick isn’t the type to make the smart kind of choices. Still, he knew where the cameras were in there. He knew what types to prey on. It’d be easy work as long as he didn’t get too overconfident.
The only thing Mick didn’t account for was his rustiness. The methods of theft were still ingrained in his mind, but lack of practice is what seems to ruin him. He’d nearly gotten caught two times just after twenty minutes or wandering the casino. He’d bumped into some asshole just as he was about to snatch a wallet from another guy. He knocked over a drink at a slot machine, soaking the coins of the stranger sitting there. So far, not so good. But Mick had been caught up in the adrenaline of it all, he couldn’t possibly care.
Mick finally has some luck when he spots a bag and a case of coins, left unattended. No one was looking in his direction. The area was relatively empty. If he could just come up and grab it then he’d duck the hell out of there, happy with his night. Er, in the casino, at least. Mick approaches the bag and case and takes the case carefully, stuffing it into the bag. He looks around before taking the bag and placing it on his shoulder. And, just as he began to turn to walk away, he noticed someone staring.
...They noticed that he was stealing the bag and case, hadn’t they.
Goddamn it.
Mick freezes up in his spot, probably looking like a frightened little Mareep. He realizes he should probably say something, and stutters out, “I- uh- listen, I’m getting the bag for my friend. They almost forgot it and I had to run back and get it. They’re kinda spacey, you know? So I just thought, uh, you know.” Wow, that was a shitty explanation. He’s screwed.
