Things were getting.... a little bit desperate. Work was not going so well, and the Resistance seemed not to be needing his assistance for anything one way or another. He was tired, and a bit on the bored side. Rita was, for whatever reason, getting rather cranky lately, irritable beyond reason. Prone to running off at random intervals- he was becoming quite worried for her. It was for this reason that he'd left the cat at his house to rest, rather than taking her out on their usual walk in the market.

Strapped for cash as he was, Seth fully intended on keeping his eyes peeled for a promising mark- resorting to an older way of life- one still freshly ingrained in his instincts. His true hope was for any mark that was unsuspecting, as it were. He'd seen a number of pockets full to the brim with concords. And all of them belonged to gollies. Who all seemed intent upon sticking in tight knit groups, making them risky marks- or were Seventen officers. Making them even riskier marks. A few world-weary men and women passed him by, mostly humans, a few wicks, tall, short, many underfed. No, no, taking from these desperate people would be no good. He had morals, after all, and couldn't bring himself to take from someone who worked hard for their keep- who was drastically underpaid as he was. Who was burdened with taxes as anyone who was not born golly was. But perhaps if he could take from someone who WAS willing to do such a thing? Someone whose pockets were lined with the gold of honest, hard-working folk. Or with the gold of less honest folk, who hired them for more dirty deeds.

He sighed, drawing away from the crowd- thinning with the darkening of the sky- and found himself meandering through winding alleyways, keeping to shadow, head low, hand over one of his many hidden daggers- just in case he met trouble before he was willing to take the risk of making trouble- not that it would to him much good against a particularly skilled assailant. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of such dishonest folk as he might be willing to steal from along the way. One who would hopefully have a purse loaded with cash.

The longer he stayed in this clocking city the more desperately he wanted to leave. But he had things set, very carefully. Karo ignored any discomforts of hunger--he was not quite flush anymore. That did not disturb him. Money was a thing, to be acquired and bartered with. Karo often just took what he wanted or made do without. Only on certain occasions, like with the blacksmith, did he bother with actually paying anyone for anything.

Or for lodging, it was hard just to take that. Karo had spent the last of what he had left last night for that. He was now on his own. He might pay a visit to Soliloquy Lane tonight, in search of work.

Karo felt a pain in his boot, like a pebble lodged the wrong way. Shit, he thought placidly. He stopped, gently tapping the toe of his boot to the ground, encouraging the pebble or whatever it truly was to come free, and rattle around in the front where it would not be such a bother.

He was about to give up, tired as he was, dark as it was getting. Wouldn't be too long before the truly nasty folk would come sniffing about. Then there it was! Opportunity knocking. This man certainly looked like the cutthroat type who would be loaded with bloodmoney. Dangerous, perhaps, but distracted currently with his shoe. The trick would be running into him without being too much of a bother- easier in crowds where being bumped into was inescapable. Course he could play at being drunk. Just so long as the man never had a chance to smell the lack of alcohol on his breath.

Quickly, Seth looked over the man, noticing a rather ugly carpetbag in his possession- most likely where his coin purse would be- in a side pocket somewhere, no doubt. Then he took his chance, stumbling around very much playing the part of a very drunk man. Or just an idiot. Before he knew it he was upon the man- a wick, he realized as he drew nearer- who was busying himself with the- whatever it was- in his shoe. His lack of field made it easier to sneak up on said wick, one of the few blessings humans were born with- the ability to go unnoticed when they wished it- and in an instant he'd bumped into the man, mumbling out a rather slurred "S'rry, gid laydeeee." And was moving along, discreetly slipping the snatched moneysack into an inner pocket of his vest.

Well. That was easy, he thought.

"Hey--" Karo said, thrown momentarily off balance. He caught himself just in time, but knew that familiar brush, that lift and then swift shambling away. Karo felt a sneer settle into his face, not at all unusual for him, but it fell off just as quickly. Unlucky son of a bitch, he thought privately. Couldn't even pick a mark. It wasn't even worth it to give chase and knife the lad.

"Plowfoot, it's empty," Karo called out, not feeling his usual venom and fire. "And it works better if you actually smell like liquor, not--"

Karo sniffed his sleeve where the youth had brushed up against him. "Cats. You are an uncommonly bad cutpurse, it is truly pathetic."

Seth stopped in his tracks, frozen for a moment in fear, then spun on his heel to face the wick, producing the sack and holding it up for Karo to see, at the same time weighing it. This was truly embarrassing. He wasn't a bad cutpurse! He'd just made a bad choice. Picked the wrong purse to cut, as it were. "Thought it felt light. An' you've a pretty good sense o' smell. Could I afford ale I woulda splashed some on me before tyrin' that." He held out the empty coinpurse, head cocked to the side, a lopsided grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. "You caught me, guess that means I gotta give this back? Worthless to me, anyhow, but you might want it when you do come across a few tallies, err..." He looked the wick up and down, attempting to judge just how much of a threat he was- how many symptoms of death the wick could inflict on him and in how short a time. And kept talking. He was nervous, which didn't help that.

"What's yer name, good sir? I'm Seth. I'm truly amazed you caught me. That's not happened in a long time." Of course, for Seth a few hours could be a long time if he were bored enough. A week could be an age and a month could feel like an eternity. It could also all pass in a blink of an eye- all depending on how well off he was. And truly, he hadn't picked any pockets in nearly a month. It had been nearly three since he'd been caught by anyone- not quite a long time, but hey- pick pocketing was all about risk taking. The trick was getting caught by more forgiving folk and not, say, a Seventen officer. "You must be quite talented, yourself, huh? What do you do for a living tha makes you so observant? I'm a Res-- eerr.. You know what I am. O' course! Just a petty thief. Though I am better at pickin' locks and infiltratin' golly houses than pickin' pockets. As you c'n clearly see." Word vomit. Oodles of it. It took all his will to stop it. Wouldn't want to overwhelm the poor guy. The poor guy who could probably take is life with ease.

"You don't need to afford it," Karo said, irritated with the creativity and lack thereof of today's youth. This fellow was clearly some sort of idiot, babbling nonsense to cover up for his lack of skill and focus. At least he knew to be scared. "Find a drunkard and bump him. I assure you that it makes the experience all the more authentic."

Karo paused, filtering through the nonsense. "Res-er?" He raised an eyebrow. "I suppose they will take anyone these days. Next time, don't admit yourself so readily, Seth. You will get more sympathy if you have been driven to desperation. And I'm sure your mark will be grateful for your silence."

Karo did not smile or give any other hint that he was only making a joke in poor taste. His sense of humor was a little underdeveloped. Instead, he uttered the single syllable for Pull, intending to pull the little purse back in his direction.

(( With Jade's grace, the spell works ))

Seth flinched at the unexpected flux of the wick's field, half-expecting something different- an attack, perhaps- his hair standing on end. But instead was shocked to have the purse snagged from his fingers by unseen forces. Damn that stuff was plain unnatural. He wasn't all too pleased with the words that had been spoken beforehand, either, and fumed. "Oh? Well if you're so godsdamned talented, why not show me how it's done, huh? Bet you couldn't lift a purse from an old lady in her sleep. Much less pick a lock- not even a simple one." He grumbled a number of odd things under his breath. "I know, Rita, he's just plain arroga-- huh?" He blinked, noticing he was talking to an empty spot on his shoulder. Well that was odd. Rita was home, asleep, and that was all good. But what was that voice, then? No, no, no. Everything was fine. He was just. Stressed. That was it. Overtired and stressed and now bothered by this stuck-up know-it-all. He turned his attention back to the man, a little embarrassed by his outburst. "Hey, you still didn't give me a name."

"And you expect to get one?" Karo scoffed, shaking off the slight wobbliness. "Not everyone is as great a fool as you, Seth."

Karo didn't bother to return the purse to where it had been, instead tucking it into a pocket of his coat. It made no difference, apparently. In truth, he was impressed that he didn't remember feeling the actual theft, just the ruse to cover it over.

"The lift itself was passable," Karo admitted. It was the greatest compliment he had issued in some time, to anyone.

He made no comment to picking locks--Karo had always relied on his persuasive personality to gain access to places and things, although he had a witch friend in his youth who could spring open anything. He had always been desperately jealous. Karo understood the mechanics of it; he merely lacked the 'touch.' He chose his next words carefully.

"You lack artistry. But if you are truly desperate for a few extra tallies . . ."

He winced internally- and externally- at the remark. He wasn't.... that big a fool... was he? And this man was to remain a stranger, then, with no regard for being polite or anything. Well, then. This man's attitude was quite uncalled for. Of course, Seth supposed, it didn't help things that he'd snatched his purse, empty as it might have been. Maybe the man was just having a bad day? Wicks, in Seth's experience, didn't tend to be so foul-tempered by nature.

And then he offered a compliment... of sorts. Huh. Seth beamed at the remark, quite pleased with it, despite the manner in which it had been presented. Of course the lift was passable. He was a skilled thief, after all.



Hmm? Was that an offer? A job offer? One in which he could earn cash? "Of course! Wouldn't've resorted to your pocket of all things were I not desperate. You got work for me? But... but you don't have anything on you to pay me with." He was truly confused. "Unless we go hit someone's house and split the take two ways..." Oh dear, just what was he getting himself into? Were he not so desperate he might have just turned around and walked the other way.

"You are stunningly unimaginative," Karo said in a clipped tone that suggested that his limited supply of patience was running low. "Come here, I'd rather not shout my designs to the heavens."

He then attempted to smile, in what he supposed was a reassuring manner. "Don't worry. I promise not hurt you," he said, solemnly. This time, he was slightly more likely to be telling the truth than the other times he had uttered that same phrase.

"Designs?" Seth blinked, then hesitantly made his way toward the wick, stopping about two feet away from him. "What sort of designs?" And how could he earn money off them? He cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and inquisitive. He did hope this wick would stay true to his word. He really didn't feel like getting hurt. He was already in a bit of pain as it was, his stomach empty of anything but acid, it felt as if it were eating itself for sustenance, and on through to his spine. It wasn't pleasant. And didn't sound any pleasanter than it felt when it growled- quite loudly, at that.

Two feet was good enough. A quick glance told Karo that their little street was empty of observers.

Karo reached into his right sleeve and discreetly pulled out a knife. It slid free easily. He stepped forward suddenly and made a grab at the front of Seth's shirt, intending to pull him close, step around and hold him from behind with his good right hand. In his left he held the knife to Seth's throat. It was sharp enough to break skin where Karo held it, though he was only pressing lightly.

"I am in a good mood tonight," Karo warned, sounding a bit like a stern teacher admonishing a wayward student. "Now disappear. If I see you again I might actually make a corpse of you. That would be satisfying but ultimately not conducive to my purposes."

Karo kicked him away then, casting Push to put some extra distance between them.