Remy was on the street again. Not living there, no. He just wanted to get out of the house and swamp for a little bit. Away from the other kids who made fun of his eyes and status. He might be one of the princes, but being adopted clearly made that title worthless.
He pushed past a couple, tourists most likely, laughing and talking loudly about who-cared-what. One hand slipped into a purse, taking a change purse. "Hey, watch where you're going!" One of them cried. Apologizing, Remy ran off, pouch clenched tightly to keep it from rattling, calling out like his friends left him behind.
They were an easy mark, and the coin purse would most likely be dismissed as lost. He shoved it into the pocket of his overalls, then shoved his sunglasses back up. They were too big, but they covered his eyes well. Let him blend in as just a kid on the street, instead of what he was.
Le diable blanc. The name stung, no matter how many times he heard it cast his way. But now? He wasn't any devil. He was just Remy, street kid.
Hidden behind the glasses, his eyes scanned the crowds. No, too old. Too fidgety. Too nervous, that one would get him caught for sure. There. A man, his back turned, distracted by one of the pop-up bands.
Remy went up, pretending to bump into the man in his haste to join the people dancing. Once again, his hand slipped into his pocket, finding a familiar, smooth shape. Pocket watch. He'd stolen enough of those to know the feel.