damia ravin speaks fluent sarcasm (contrabandist) wrote in emillion, |
Too slow. She would've waited for a distraction, something to take the attention away from any prying fingers in pockets or bags or whatever hung the loosest. Her little mouse should have pounced quicker, but here he was, being much too obvious in his intentions. A soft breath, the brush of cloth against cloth; she could hear him. He was good, but not good enough-- not for her.
Before those fingers could reach their destination, Damia whirled around, hand wrapping around a wrist and yanking. Sky was soon pressed into the nearest crate, a fist bunched up in his collar and fingers tight on his hand. Much smaller than expected, though small could be useful, depending on the situation. And just a kid. But hadn't she been young, too, when she was a thief?
She smiled. "Are you the welcoming party, Tiny?"