Who do you think you are? (open)
They had been following him for a while now. Jack had been nervous about it but Anti, Anti knew how to turn a stalker into a good time. He took control and began weaving through crowds and cutting through alleys. Whoever it was was good–he hadn’t lost them yet. Good. He wanted to mess with them up front. He dipped into smaller and darker alleys, leading them in more or less a giant spiral until he met with a gratified dead end. He heard the follower stop behind him. Anti smirked.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?”
Arin was just trying to be a good person, he really was. He was trying to return a wallet to the green-haired gentlemen who seemed to be purposely evading him. To be fair, he would avoid himself as well; a hooded figure looming toward you? Ominous as fuck. But when he had him cornered, he doubled over, hands gripping onto the hardness of his knees and he pushed his hood away from his sweating head. “I could-” he paused to breath heavily, “-care less who the hell you are. I just wanted to give your damn wallet back.”
Anti was taken aback--that was no fun (also rather pathetic, he and Jack usually kept a better eye on their wallet). Jack to the chance to reply and hopefully avoid unpleasantness. "Oh sorry, uhm, thanks!" he rubbed the back of his head and chuckled awkwardly, "You gave us--me quite a scare! Guess psyching you out didn't work." Jack laughed nervously again. He could feel more than hear the annoyed grumbling from Anti over the ruined opportunity to mess with the guy.