I could feel that soft, familiar ripple. It tickled the edges of my skin, the breath of a whisper against my body as I crossed onto the store floor. My bony hands flashed in my peripheral vision as I walked smartly, my shoes making no sound over the hustle and bustle of shoppers. Unlike many of them, I knew what I was here for. I was not a seventeen year old looking for a thrill or a new cashmere scarf to flaunt at school. Hell, I had never even been to a school. My father had taught me until he died when I was eleven. I had a purpose as I made my way to the moving escalator stairs. Shoppers in stiff coats, clean boots and angular hats chatted as they slipped onto it.

I never registered on their radar. I doubt the stairs itself even knew it had an extra passenger. I was small, barely five foot three, and weighed next to nothing. Not of much note to be honest. The Christmas music played cheerily in the background, not yet annoying the shoppers in the middle of November. Soon "Do they have to play that?" and the discussion of the woes of the modern commercialisation of Christmas and the festive period would be all I would hear on these escapades.

Leaving the stairs I went straight across the polished marble floor to the women's shoes, a large section where normal enough shoes cost double a month's rent in my "home" of London. Some pairs were nearly indistinguishable from pairs I saw in high street stores. I walked past dozens of women, foreigners over for a holiday and Londoners with too much disposable income, to a section with thick black carpet and separated with glass on two sides from the main crowds.

This was where my time would be well spent. Here, pairs of shoes stood together as they were on sale, only two or three sizes of each. Pairs still upwards of seven hundred pounds. But shoes one season out of date were not much of an issue to my clientele. With the large number about, I managed over the space of fifteen minutes to disappear six pairs, which was a great haul, into my bag. Any good thief would agree.

Once the shoes were in my possession, I could relax. They could no longer be seen. So, I browsed the rest of this level. Shoes, hats, scarves and a selection of coats so expensive I raised an eyebrow (after trawling through stores like this for years, an eyebrow raise was equivalent to a gasp and swear words in my book).

I went back downstairs and browsed the dozens of make-up brands, hair products and perfumes that left their luxurious scents in the air. I smoothly vanished my foundation, concealer, bronzer and powder and put them in my bag. On the occasions I decided to be seen in stores like this, I had to look smart and the part. Using my gift for two long gave me headaches but over the years of using it for extended periods of time, I had a pretty good tolerance for pain and could use my gift for a rather long length of time before it even hurt me at all.

I left as I came in, gradually coming into focus. My gift very discreetly seemed to simply bring me back to focus. Even people I had let observe me do this in the past barely noticed as I shifted back to attention. I made sure my disgustingly trendy backpack and shoulder bag were good and decided lunch was in order. I would sell the shoes this evening to my connections so they could be sold online and on the black market so until then I had the money to get lunch to eat somewhere nice.

I decided to go to a café I had been to once on the opposite side of the bridge no more than a twenty minute walk from where I was. I wanted the crisp winter air in my face for a little longer. It became clear that my shoulder length black hair needed to be tied up as the wind whipped through it. I pulled one of the bobbins off my wrist and plaited it down my head as I walked off the end of the bridge and onto the path.

I was nearing the café, off the main street, and could see the many tables and chairs outside filled with people despite the sharp edge to the air. I fully planned on joining those inside where I could dump my bags and not worry about any of my products getting damp on the ground outside. That was until I saw one awfully familiar face. It had been three years but her pixie like face, piercings in her ears and brown hair brought back dozens of memories. Hastily I ordered my body to fade out and the tickling on my skin quickly spread and hid me and my loot from sight.

She was here with a handsome young man who wore glasses, presumably her age. Nearly exactly her age if I was correct in identifying who he was to her. They were sitting together at one of the outside tables, glowing in one another's company. Their empty plates of food seemed long finished and judging by the steam rising from their cups, they were on their second cup of tea or coffee. She laughed and the sound rang out in the soft hustle and bustle of the city and the other customers chat.

She looked so happy in her new life. I had heard a few rumours when the group scattered years ago that she had found her soulfinder, something none of us were even certain was a real thing. At first people kept in touch, scattering bits of stories they had heard, her soulfinder one of them and the reasons we were no longer a group. And no one was willing to become one again either. That was one thing I was grateful for. I preferred working alone mostly, in charge of my own activities and not answering to anyone. My connections were smart enough to know that someone as good as me getting what they wanted should not be annoyed so I was under no one any more.

But I was alone and that was why I watched them from a hundred or so metres away. I also debated letting myself be seen as what were the chances she remembered me? I knew her because she was one of his favourites and we had exchanged glances. Even making eye contact was a big deal in my experience in that group but maybe she had experienced otherwise. In a world where you just looked out for you, anything out of the norm I noted. I noted next to everything to be safe. It was actually necessary.

My stomach growled and I did not feel like going to another café. I could see a few tables inside and the food smelled heavenly. With that I let myself come back into focus and walked straight over to her table. It was not like she could hurt me. I had years of self-defence classes under my belt, partially the reason most of the food I ate was stolen. But I went more seldom now to the classes, knowing more than enough to be safe on these streets. It was tiring having to be alert all the time but I knew no other life. And not everyone was bad. Some just had to support families or survive.

He noticed me first as I was going straight for their table. He frowned ever so slightly though it was clear he had no idea who I was. She noticed me seconds later and her eyes widened and her mouth hung open slightly in surprise. I was smaller than her but I knew I looked a little frightening. Little bits of my black hair hung around my pierced ears and very light gold-brown eyes.

I smiled, nearly smirked. "Hello Phoenix. Remember me?"

Recovering from the shock and trying to figure out what type of expression to wear around me she settled on a genuine smile. "How could I forget you Gold?"

The author person here to annoy you!

Second fanfiction! ("Winning Willow" was my first). I got my inspiration for this from Phee and Yves (probably my favourite Savant couple) and "Stealing Phoenix" (also Oculus and a random song! Btw. Oculus is really not scary in the slightest. I was really hoping to be scared but nope. Ah well). So, hopefully you liked it :)

So rate, review and favourite (if this deserves such an honour :D).