This was off of a random writing prompt I popped on. Don't know why I even wrote this.
A light and stealthy hand snaked its way up to his hand, fondling the many heavy, valuable looking rings adorning his long and calloused fingers.
The silver-haired man didn't seem to notice the old hag's hand one bit at all. He was still admiring the shimmering precious stones settled in silk inside of the jeweller's store window.
Finally, the woman pinpointed the ring that she wanted for herself. It was dull silver, worn by many years of hard work, and was studded by tiny, sparkling black stones. It was on the man's thumb; it would be the hardest to get off but the woman could manage it.
After all, she had a lot of experience in these sorts of things.
Her grimy, filthy nails picked at the bottom of the ring, slowly loosening it, while her other hand easily slid it off. It all went wrong when her long pinky nail accidently scratched his hand.
His head jerked towards the woman, standing long and lean compared to the short and stout homeless woman.
"What are you doing, miss?" He said politely, but she could clearly see a spark of anger in his eyes.
So the ring was very valuable.
She said nothing, slipped the ring off his thumb, and ran without a look back.
"Hey!" The man yelled and she could swear that she could hear his dress shoes scratching against the concrete sidewalk not far from her.
She didn't worry about him catching her; she knew the city like the back of her hand, and he was a foreigner. That much she could tell from the way he had stood cluelessly in the middle of the throngs of people.
It would be a piece of cake.
She risked a glance back and saw him getting caught in the rush of people crossing the street.
Perfect.
"Sorry, sonny boy!"
.
Cynthia Shirona was about to cross the Mode Street when a willowy man ran into her like a steamroller. She was knocked to the ground, her blond hair spread out like a fan along the curb. Cynthia was that close to having her brain split in half.
So, it was perfectly acceptable to slap the silver-haired man in the face and kick him hard in the stomach with her razor sharp high heels.
But, no, he didn't flinch or cry out in pain; he didn't even blink his eyes. Apparently, this had happened to him before.
Either that or he was some kind of metal man.
He just stood up, brushed his hands off and sprinted.
It was then that Cynthia realized the large dewdrop pendant adorning her dress was missing.
Shegot up and ran.
.
Blond hair flying behind her like a gleaming cape, Cynthia kept her eyes focused sharply on the tall silver haired man bobbing in and out of her eye sight. Cynthia was leggy, taller than most Unovans, it seemed, but this man seemed even taller than herself. It was a wonder how he momentarily dissapeared within the crowd.
Her gray eyes finally closed in on his black suit with odd purple stripes running lengthwise. Her high heels dug deeper in the concrete, fueled by determination, Cynthia burst and found herself an arm's length away from grabbing the man's bony shoulder.
Cynthia's nails scrabbled for his shoulder, but she was too slow, grasping for his shoulder whenever it was in the opposite direction.
There was only one way to stop him.
Cynthia quickly pushed two unsuspecting lovers nuzzling one another into the path of the man in the suit. The silver-haired man tripped over the man's outstretched foot and fell face first onto the concrete.
"That must have hurt." Cynthia mused, while walking leisurely towards the tripped man sprawled on the vomit colored concrete.
.
Steven could sense two heels circling him, much like a Sharpedo would circle its prey before going in for the kill. He would know; he had almost been the victim of a Sharpedo attack.
No, they weren't like Sharpedo; they were more like sheathed daggers, something that seemed safe to use but could turn dangerous at any time. His eyes slowly roved up to the confident stance of the woman standing above him.
"Who are you exactly?"
"Your worst nightmare."
"Well, then. I was expecting you to come a bit sooner. And I thought you were of the male gender."
A small pause of silence. Silence could never actually exist in Castelia City.
"So you're saying a woman wouldn't murder you?"
.
The man didn't seem worried that Cynthia was about to publicly murder him. In fact, he seemed even more laid back. His cloudy gray eyes slid up to meet her similar grey ones.
"Well, it's been a while, hasn't it?" He said smoothly, slowly standing up, all while keeping eye contact with Cynthia.
"Who exactly are you?" Cynthia asked cautiously, hand hovering near her pocket for her Pokemon.
"You mean you don't remember, fellow Champion?" He responded rather formally, a strange lilt in his voice that Cynthia had not noticed before.
Cynthia suddenly recognized the name of this man standing tall and proud in front of her.
"Steven Stone. Former Champion of Hoenn."
Loud silence again.
"That's my name, all right. Now can we get a move on?"