Late Morning || Cheapside, London || Early April 1800
The chime above the pawnbrokers rung out as Adelson stepped out onto the street, grin flashing along with the pocket watch that rested heavy in his hand as it caught the late morning sun.
There was no identifiable mark to determine the maker, but it was clearly well-made with an elegant chain that would save him the trouble (and embarrassment) of fumbling with his pockets. Buying from a pawnbroker wasn’t the ideal way to obtain such an item (one would prefer a family heirloom, perhaps a gift from a king or prince that was subsequently passed between Dukes for generations) but it had the look of an accessory with a storied history, and that was ultimately what mattered.
He made a show of clicking open the lid of the watch, the corner of his mouth quirking up. He fancied he looked like any busy and important gentleman about Town. The smile slipped from his face as he caught sight of the time. Damn, he was going to be late.
The clang of St. Paul’s bells solidified the point. He dropped the watch back in his pocket and looked around. Shorter and slighter than the other gentlemen milling about, it was an effort to see through the crowd and identify the best route to the main street. He pushed onto his toes, stumbling into a passerby as he fell back onto the heels of his feet. “I beg your pardon,” he said hastily, attention still split as he oriented himself.
@ixnay-on-the-ipshay