[Open] You've got to pick a pocket or two

[versatilehand]

WHO Eames & anyone! Open.
WHAT Arthur and Eames have been here a while now. They're planning on getting to the bottom of their situation through dream-sharing, but the materials required don't come cheap. So Eames is on the look out for some easy money.
WHERE The streets around the Hill
WHEN Tuesday evening.
NOTES Multiple threads welcome! Eames is

Comments

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's not exactly a working man. But he is collecting cash, both gainfully and ungainfully acquired, and he doesn't have a bank or anything so he typically has a folded wad of it in one or more pockets. He doesn't take much care, of course, striding down the street in the evening like he hasn't a care in the world.

[versatilehand]

The man Eames sees walking towards him doesn't look like one of his usual suspects. The clothes aren't expensively cut, and the man seems to be walking with a purpose; there's nothing about him that suggests he's in any way distracted, or not completely on his guard.

Still, he's working to a deadline, and at least this stranger doesn't look poor. Deciding to go for a tried and tested technique, he steps into the man's path, holding up his hands in a gesture of submission.

"Excuse me, sir, could you possible spare me a moment? I'm afraid I'm rather turned around."

[idolstolemylook]

Spike raises an eyebrow. Most baddies around here are more straightforward, so he's not really thinking the man's anything but daft.

"You an' everyone else," he says. "S'what happens, when the streets move about."

[versatilehand]

Getting a little closer into the man's personal space, Eames very quickly glances down, memorising the position of the various pockets in the leather coat.

"I'm looking for... the hostel? Does that ring any bells?" He tries to keep things vague, for the time being, fingers slowly pressing forward to search the most likely looking pocket.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike eyes him oddly. "Sure," he says slowly, not sure why he suddenly looks like the giving-directions type. "S'about half way to mind your own fucking business." Still, he sounds more bored than annoyed.

[versatilehand]

Fingers finding a wad of cash, Eames starts to withdraw his hand, being incredibly careful to keep his movements slow, not to jostle the other man in any way.

"I could really do with some directions," he puts on his best pleading, pathetic voice. "I haven't got a clue where I am."

[idolstolemylook]

Even if he hadn't had vampiric senses, the lack of reaction to his being incredibly rude would have been a tipoff. Suddenly Spike's fingers shoot out to grab the man's wrist, his expression hardening though he'll have to try not to actually hurt him.

"Think you know, mate," he says, eyes glittering.

[versatilehand]

It's not often that Eames gets caught in the act; in fact, he's struggling to remember the last time it happened. Somewhere along the South Bank, he thinks, a sloppy grab he hadn't had his whole attention on. He'd run, that time, and it seems like the best option now.

Dropping the money, recognising a lost cause, he just hopes the grip on his wrist will loosen, just long enough for him to make a dash.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike grins, but doesn't loosen his grip. "Bit of unfriendly advice," he says. "You're good, but you're human-good. Learn to pick your marks an' stay away from the nasties."

[versatilehand]

"Your senses are clearly highly honed," Eames tries to talk himself out of the situation, when he realises he's not about to be set free.

"I commend you."

[idolstolemylook]

Spike snorts, loosing his grip with a little shove away from him. "Part of the package," he says. "What's to say I shouldn't turn the tables, make you my mark instead?"

[versatilehand]

"And what is is that you're after?" Eames isn't worried, not yet. His hands are free, and he can run like the wind when the situation calls for it. He just thinks it would be handy, to know what this man is after, just in case they do have another run in in the future.

[idolstolemylook]

In a trice, Spike has zipped around behind him, mouth at his ear and not coincidentally, his neck.

"Leave you a lot emptier than you leave peoples' pockets," he murmurs.

[versatilehand]

It's in that moment that Eames realises he's dealing with a psychopath, and a fucking speedy one at that. He doesn't think twice as he pushes himself forwards, into a run, certain that this encounter is well and truly over.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike laughs after him, posturing a little, but making no effort to chase. "Serves you right!" he calls. "Show you to pick a vampire's pocket!"