【✟】-❝Shit--!❞ Gren harshly whispered under his breath, his back pressed flat against the wall. It was an accident. Really, it was! Gren was no crook. He was no thief. The wallets; they just looked so similar, and his sight isn't the best these days. The Glamour does funny things to you sometimes. He’s not quite sure how it escalated to this level--granted, telling someone to ‘fuck off, I didn't take your dusty ass leather boot-looking wallet’ was probably a tad provoking.
Now, the Fable isn't one to run away from fights, mind you, but he knows when he’s out numbered and it may be time to make a quick and discreet getaway. And it’s hard enough fighting with one arm in this soft, squishy, useless human body as it is. What he wouldn't give to be able to just turn to his true self and throw these jackasses through the nearest wall, but he feels considerably weakened in this place and he doesn't want to take any chances.
So instead, he throws a carefully aimed fist at the offender’s nose, and when flesh comes into contact with flesh, he quickly maneuvers through the others and dashes out of the building, both wallets still in his possession. Dammit, he should have ditched the evidence and thrown the thing into the gutter; though perhaps he is not doomed yet, as a striking young man happened to catch his attention. Lightly jogging over to him, Gren quickly shoved the small leather object into the man’s hands, and when they he flashed him a bewildered look, he simply paused in thought and said ❝Happy Birthday. So sorry I missed the first...what, 24? Or how ever many fuckin’ years, but what can you do, yeah?❞ The features on his face were tensed and tight, though he managed a slight smirk, with the corner of his mouth turning up just a bit.
