A/N: So, I don't usually start a story before I finish another one, but I've been taking a break from Elf Dawned for a little while just to collect ideas and make sure I don't finish it off sloppy. But the holidays are here and I couldn't help it. So far I've been able to write most of this story out. I think that I'm maybe two or three chapters away from finishing this story off. Basically, it's very short, but I hope you all like it. Happy New Years Eve. I hope you all have a very great 2012 with lots of writing and books!
Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or anything to do with it. This story is a figment of my imagination.
Summery: She likes being alone. She is, after all, the best pickpocket girl ever. Or so she tells herself. Then, one pickpocket trick goes wrong, and she's suddenly visiting Halifax for the holidays with overly cheery Darien. And she learns the hard way that getting under his skin is not easy, but he seems to be doing a great job getting under hers and into her heart.
The Pickpocket Girl
Chapter 1
I loved this time of year. Well, I loved and hated it. I loved it because it was almost always crowded everywhere, so picking pockets was easy. People, I find, tend to be more careless. They're caught up in the excitement, the grandness, the spirit, the distractions, they wouldn't notice if you bulldozed over them. Twice.
I hated it because it was cold. You can't go out without freezing to death. Mornings were fine – I could coup up in some big mall somewhere and collect. It was the nights that bugged me. Not only did I have to put up with the filth and rot and the cold, but also the dirty looks. It made you feel like scum, especially when you heard the famous "Don't look her directly in the eyes, Johny boy" line from the fretting mothers of the world. Sometimes I start yelling at them. Most times I let it go. No sense in fighting a battle you've already lost. And I kind of hate the fact that pepper spray is so high in demand and stings so much. But that's hypocritical of me, since I usually have a bottle in my coat. You never know who's out there at night that's bigger and stronger.
I also learned pretty quickly that sleeping at night isn't really for me anymore. Better to be standing and alert, pretending to browse stores for some heat and looking like you belong. In the mornings I get some sleep once the mall opens. You don't know how far a pair of sunglasses, a bench, and an overnight bag will go. Yes, a silent figure forever waits for her father, who will never show up. A teenager who's ride is an eternity late. A girl who needs some change for the bus she won't be taking. It's amazing how much those lines work. After a couple of "excuse me, do you have change for the bus?" lines, I have enough for some breakfast or lunch. Most people complain about the cost for the bus. I love it.
Right now, I'm standing behind some tall guy with black hair and an expensive-looking coat with deep pockets. Easy enough, if I get the right pocket. Otherwise, I hit keys and I've got enough of those to last a lifetime.
Suddenly, he moves. I follow him with my eyes.
"No, Drew, I'm just saying that I think you're spending too long searching for a gift for her. She'll love anything you get her. Except, you know, tampons or bathroom junk…" he laughs heartily, a rich, deep sound that reminds me of hot coffee in the morning.
"You know I'm just teasing you. Yeah, I know, you learned your lesson from that first time. Well, everyone knows that you don't get a girl- no. No I haven't. What? You forgot again? Alright, where are you?" I watch as he takes out his wallet from the right pocket and rifles through some cash. Loads of cash. My eyes bulge. Bingo.
"Yeah, I think I have enough." He goes to the cashier and picks out a candy bar, putting it on the checkout lane for her to scan. He hangs up on whoever he was talking to, and pays for the bar with some change, then leaves.
I curse and turn to follow him, when a 'friendly' saleslady shows up, barricading the exit. Soon enough, I've lose sight of the wealthy guy with the odd sense of humor.
"And how are you enjoying our sales today? May I help you find anything?" In other words, buy something or get out.
I smile politely at her. "Yes, actually, I was wondering where the maroon sweater with the elephant playing volleyball with some monkeys went. I saw one in here last week, but I can't seem to find it today."
Her smiling lips twitched. "I'm afraid we don't have anything like that in here."
"Oh, are you sure? But I saw it here last week. Can you check your database?"
Again, her lips twitched. "I'll see if I can find it."
She led me to the back of the store where an ancient computer hooked to a pillar was blinking festive pictures back and forth. She moved the cruiser so the computer blinked to life, and began typing. Silently, I slipped away and grinned to myself. By now, the guy was long gone, thanks to her, so I hope that she has fun searching for the non-existent sweater.
I left the store, backpack slung over my shoulder and whistling, but stopped dead in my tracks. There he was, checking the store map.
I laughed with relief and giddiness. It's the greatest time of year, indeed.
The guy turned and looked about him, as if trying to figure out which direction was the right one. I was surprised to find that despite his wide shoulders and great height, he was probably not much older than I was.
But then, what did I know? I was just a very successful street kid.
He began to move, and I followed silently, stopping every now and then to stare down and act inconspicuous. I wonder how he got all that cash. Probably had rich parents, is my guess.
Suddenly, he stopped and turned into one of the stores. I followed him in.
If I was going to do this, I should do it now. When his friend shows up, that would only increase the risk of being found out. That happened once, and I got out lucky. With this guy, I'd never know.
I sped up my pace until I was right behind him. Pretending to look through some… uh… was that… oh God, ok, focus. I backed up some steps until I actually bumped into him. At the same time, I reached into his right pocket and gasped when I grasped air. Where was it?
"Hey, are you okay – are you trying to pickpocket me?"
I was so shocked I had removed my hand from his pocket clumsily, and somehow got tangled up in it. "Uh, no."
"It looks like you are. And I saw you in that other shop, too. What are you up to? Where's your mom?" He stared down at me, and I stared back up at his midnight blues. If I had learned anything, looking away would make me seem like an amateur. And I wasn't. But it was hard to stare into his eyes. They made me feel weak.
I glared at him to hide it. I got it – I looked young. But he was treating me like a 10-year-old. Never mind the fact that my best solution to this problem right now would be to kick him in the shins and make a mad dash into hiding.
"Dead," I said. "And I wasn't pickpocketing you." An obvious lie, but it came out sounding convincing. I was a master at lies.
"Yeah, right. So what are you doing on the street? Shouldn't you be in some orphanage?"
Again, I glared. "I'm nineteen."
He smirked. "Yeah, right. No, but seriously who am I calling to come pick you up?"
Kicking shins and running sounded pretty good right about now. Instead, I turned and walked away with the dignity I had left. Things could have gone worse – a lot worse. This guy was too confident and didn't even seem shaken by the fact that he almost lost all the cash he had on him.
Twenty minutes later I was sitting on my bench. I had found a quarter in a vending machine. Today wasn't a great day for me. I reached into my pocket to count the change I had managed to collect, and was surprised when I felt paper. I pulled out a ten dollar bill and stared at it. What had…?
I unfolded it and watched as a small note fell out from in between the crisply folded bill. I picked it up and read it.
Dear Pickpocket girl,
I should advice you that you need more practice before you get into close-contact pickpocketing. There are always backpacks, and those are easier to pick than a pocket. Here's some money. Buy yourself something useful. I trust you don't do drugs.
Sincerely, Darien.
P.S; Am I good at this, or am I good? This is how it's done, kiddo. Learn from the master.
TBC
A/N: Enjoy, you guys! I'll try to update tomorrow, too. Review, and please have a very happy and safe New Years Eve!
