On A Beach Somewhere || Closed with jackofallspcdes
>It was odd, being on a crowded street, walking by a shoreline and not >feeling voices and emotions in his head. It was beautiful but also incredibly >unnerving. He couldn’t help but triple think every move he made, even with >the serum and a whiskey coursing through his system. He was just turning >the corner to head back into the shopping district to get some food when >he felt something slip into his pocket. He whirled around and grabbed the >man who was trying to pickpocket him. “Sorry, I don’t let just anyone get >into my pants.”
He’d been watching this one for nearly a week. An easy target, really, even as apparently paranoid and careful as the man was, and a lucrative one, too. Remy had taken easily four hundred dollars off him those first couple days, and no one had been any the wiser. Man hadn’t even changed the pocket he kept his wallet in. Beach towns were generally good for Remy’s brand of business; tourists passing through meant another new face around for a week or a month wasn’t commented on much, and there was a constant stream of new marks to choose from. This one, though…
He’d turned this one into a game. The first two encounters had been strictly business, but something about the man made Remy want to press his luck. So he’d taken a few postcards, cheap little things, and just for fun started sliding them into the man’s pockets whenever they happened to cross paths. Surely he’d cotton on eventually, right? And so he did. Remy gave him an easy grin. “Jus’ leavin’ a souvenir, mon ami, ain’ no harm done here.” His hand withdrew, showing the postcard with its local landmark and city name emblazoned on the front. “Better'n bravin’ de shops dis hour a th'day, non?” The primarily tourist-boutique shopping district was already filling up as the afternoon wore on.
Charles, who was so used to feeling voices, powers, presences in his brain especially when he touched someone, was still feeling unsettled, but not because of this charming stranger. “A souvenir is usually more appreciated when bought by oneself, or when given with one’s knowledge, is it not? Instead of taking the place of what was in one’s pocket,” he said, pushing his hand into the pocket he spoke up to feel his wallet lighter. “And sometimes, shops that are bustling are pleasant enough with all the people, enjoying holidays, having fun,” he said, trying to convince himself of the truth of that. It had been a while since he liked being around hordes of people.
