Part of Crossovers100, more entries can be found at my LJ: shade-shifter(dot)livejournal(dot)com
Impromptu Meetings:
It starts when Vin, aged fifteen, tries out his pick pocketing skills. He's starving and he thinks that it might have been yesterday when he last ate something. Might have been the day before that.
He's been living on the streets for longer than he cares to think about. Ever since he was thirteen and Robert, 'call me Bobby', took too much of a liking to him and Vin punched him in the face. He's taken a lot of shit from his foster families over the years but that wasn't something he was willing to put up with.
Vin watches the busy street from the shadowed mouth of an alley. It took some practice, and a lot of mistakes, before he learned to look for things like the kind of shoes people wear, because jewellery and watches could always be fake.
It takes a while, but Vin's good at lying in wait, before he finally spots a target. The man seems wealthy enough and Vin's sure he'll have money enough for at least a meal. More importantly, he looks distracted. Sometimes distracted trumps rich.
Vin casually makes his way across the street. He brushes up against the man briefly before he's moving on. He knows better than to run or to look back. His heart's pounding in his chest and all he wants to do is hole up somewhere and count his score. He jumps when a hand grasps his shoulder.
"I think you have something of mine," his target says when Vin turns slowly to look at him. The accent is British and Vin's surprised.
The hand that's still gripping his shoulder is firm enough to keep him there, but not so much that it'll leave a bruise. Despite himself Vin's curious, because there haven't been that many people in his life who've cared enough not to hurt him and this man doesn't even know him. Doesn't know anything about him other than that he's just stolen from him.
Vin finally looks up at the man's face, steeling himself for all sorts of things like anger and hostility. All he sees is a gentle disappointment, and it makes him feel ashamed and guilty. Silently he hands over the wallet he's just taken. The man smiles warmly at him.
"Thank you, my boy," the man says. He glances around before his eyes alight on a deli just across the street. "I was just about to get something to eat. Why don't you join me?"
Vin glares at him suspiciously because he knows the types of things that happen to kids that go off with strange men. But he's hungry, and just a little bit curious, so he gives a short nod. Besides, he's good at running and the back alleys of Denver are his home. If Vin gives him the slip he'll be gone before the man's even sure what happened.
"Excellent," the man tells him, and he's patting Vin lightly on the shoulder now. "When I was in school, in England that is, there was this…" he begins as he turns to go to the deli. He briefly pauses and turns back to Vin. "I'm Donald Mallard," he says, "but please, call me Ducky."