That Was Far, Far Too Normal

I was always amazed at how invisible a person in plain sight can be. One could sit on a park bench, arrange their features to look pleasantly blissful, tired, slightly worried, or any of the other usual emotions a young woman should be experiencing, and completely dissolve. Thinking I'm a bench… I'm a bench… Keep on walking -- that's right, I'm just part of the bench… helps too. I sometimes liked to add a bit of variety, to spice up the scene. Drawing was my favourite, but feeding the birds, reading a book, or even knitting were more entertaining than just sitting there, waiting for an easy victim to come along.

Now, I know you just jumped at the word victim. Be assured, it's just another term I liked to use to make the fine art of pick pocketing an adventure. It makes me sound dangerous, don't you think? Sort of a high flyer? But all I was, then, was a starving teenager with a knack for slipperiness. And not to mention with a mentor who just happened to be every nobleman in Europe's biggest unsolved mystery.

I shifted my skirts, deliberately making it look like an unconscious thing as I applied a few more strokes to the sketch of the street I was drawing. It was only an alibi, but I took a certain pride in my sketches. They all had to be just so. Everything in proportion – faces and heads and bodies and benches and street signs and horses and stores… all exact miniatures of the real models. I smiled down at my book. Perfect! Except… that bakery sign looked extraordinarily like it said brewery in my version. Just as I finished the erasing frenzy a carriage pulled up in front of me, blocking my view of the Bakery/Distillery that needed adjusting. Shoot. I grimaced as it's occupants took their time getting out of the buggy, talking and laughing gaily as the men made a show of being gentlemanly and helped the ever-giggling girls away. I watched in disgust as they carried on with their carefree lives. There was one member of the party, however, that wiped my scowl away.

He was of average height, average build, and of a perfectly average demeanour. This effect was heightened by his dull brown hair – tied back neatly with a navy cord – and fading black jacket. He didn't draw attention to himself, like the others, but rather effectively made himself a pleasant accompaniment, the type of background music that one doesn't notice until someone, for lack of a better conversation topic, brings it up.

He was too average.

Too invisible.

Too much like me.

I had a class 5 internal freak-out. Not that it would show, of course, Gray had trained me better than that. I scrambled around in my head, trying to imagine what Gray would do. Get out of there! You don't know what kind of outlaw he is! He would murmur to me, as if I were the daughter I would be pretending to be, being sent to do some errand or other. He wouldn't give himself away in his urgency, but become a shadow. He didn't trust other 'outlaws'. Kind of cowardly, in my opinion, but his strategy worked. He'd never been caught during his entire career. Gray was constantly reminding us that bounty hunters were outlaws, too.

I stood up, not slowly, but not alarmingly fast either, and started down the avenue. I would take refuge in the general store until Mr. Average was gone for good. He was probably just passing through; to steal a few horses… it was a common enough thing. I held on to that thought, fighting the urge to glance back. I concentrated on crossing the road. Horse thief? This new voice took me by surprise. I've never seen such a subtle animal stealer. They tend to just grab and go, without thinking about it. Huh. Who knew my brother would be the one dealing this advice. Advice about thinking. Les wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, in my opinion. I automatically scanned the area for his fiery mop.

Les!

What was he doing?

Idiot! Gray agreed in my head. Can't he see…? Victoria, get him out of there!

Les had come back to my bench, which had been taken over by the carriage troupe. He was looking quite comfortable there – particularly enjoying the attentions of one of the gigglers. He was far too popular among that crowd for it to be good. Normally I would have let him have his fun, in hopes he'd retrieve something shiny in the process, but not today. Today, Mr. Average was taking far too much of a liking to him.

I turned, and some instinct had me running towards my brother. I couldn't help it; my feet just decided to rush me towards the dangerous, perfectly non-dangerous group.

"Les!" I half screamed, "I've been looking all over for you!"

So much for subtleness, the man in my head grumbled.

You can shut it Gray, you're getting annoying, I mentally snapped.

"Victoria?" He sounded as surprised as the situation called for, with a skilful undercurrent of chagrin, but I knew him better. The word reeked of you crazy female, what are you doing? I glared at him in real reproach, but that fit our scenario too.

"Don't you act all innocent, Lester Buchanan! If you had the slightest idea of what I've been through for your worthless hide –"

"But – "

"—the lies I've been telling –"

"Ya well—"

"—go home now you worthless white trash before I –"

"Now, now, calm down miss, don't hurt yourself. Let the man explain." Mr. Average interrupted as I raised my hand, ready to slap Les. I knew I was probably overdoing it, and being the opposite of invisible, but I really needed to get my point across. Also, I really wanted to hit him. He'd been driving me driving me over the edge since the day he was born.

Mr. Average grabbed my still raised hand, grinning slightly. He eased it down, till it was completely lowered, then took my other hand in his as well. The action was almost… romantic? That didn't make sense, at all, it was completely irrelevant to the situation, and I hated myself for even thinking it, but that was the only explanation I had for the way he moved. Probably just doesn't want to get smacked, Gray noted. I took the opportunity to swipe the man's cufflinks.

"Hitting anybody would do far more harm than good, don't you think Victoria?"

"Let go of me." I said flatly, unnerved by his touch. And the way he looked at me… I fought the impulse to shiver.

"Of course." He… cooed? Bringing my hand up to his face, and…

For once I was completely at a loss as to what to do. He couldn't have just kissed my palm! Where did that come from? I was a stranger on a near-murderous rampage for crying out loud!

I looked to Les for some insight, but he seemed even more confused than I was. His eyes were moving so rapidly between our hands, and our faces, and it gave me the strangest urge to laugh. Which one of the girls witnessing the scene acted upon.

It was contagious. Her soprano tinkle was joined by a bass, closely followed by Mr. Maybe-Not-As-Average-As-I-Once-thought's roughened chuckle, and an explosion of whoops from somewhere behind me. He still wouldn't let me go.

"I knew you were slick, James, but man that was somethin'! Stopped her dead in her tracks, you did!"

"Aw, would you look at her face! Poor doll!"

"Nice, Victoria, nice." Les grinned.

"Your face was just as priceless, Lester" Soprano tinkled.

I paid them little attention, because the man standing in front of me counted far more than they. Mr. Ave… James still hadn't let go. The pressure of his fingers was starting to get uncomfortable, and there was something… strange about his face. I watched as some emotion skittered across his features when they laughed.

I took my hands back with a jerk. He smiled, amused by my discomfort, and bowed to me. I usually would have observed 'bowed mockingly to me' but… his eyes. They were dead serious. And, wow, a burning, deep-earth tone.

"Come." I shot at Les, turning to him so I would not be lost in the brilliancy of that mystery-man's eyes. "Mother will be delighted to hear your story this time."

Les's eyes darkened as he dropped his head, dispatched a parting grin for Soprano, and backed away from the group. He knew what I meant by 'mother'.

I curtsied and turned away as well. What a disaster. We'd have to leave town sooner than I had planned, and that meant pawning our loot somewhere else. Pawning elsewhere meant that we'd go supperless again tonight. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure we weren't being followed.

"Sorry." Les muttered as we walked, "Couldn't help myself."

He didn't sound an ounce repentant. Smug would be a better word. I glowered at his freckles, unwilling to give him the honour of looking him in the eye. (Also, he was half a head taller than me, so I couldn't help but look up his nose, could I?) Les was clueless. Absolutely clueless. For a moment, I found myself wishing I could be that ignorant again. Be so, so… safe… in my own head, unafraid of the constant danger the world was pelting us with, undaunted by empty stomachs and cold nights and the running, running, running. I just wanted… bliss, like he had. To do what I wanted because I wanted it. Maybe even spontaneous! And to possibly, Gray interrupted, possibly keep your stupid head in the moment, girl. Such a state only exists if your head is full of sawdust. James is still behind you. Keep sharp.

That's what he would say. Ungh. But that is also what I had just said to myself.