Pietro Maximoff (Django Frank), professional dick (quicksilvering) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-09 14:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, pietro maximoff (quicksilver) |
Who: Pietro Maximoff [Narrative]
What: A little picture of his day-to-day living
Where: Random beach in Orange County
When: Saturday morning / early afternoon
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13 for nothing really that offensive, tbh
When he wasn't lounging around on the couch and flipping through different television channels, Pietro was outside wandering. He didn't have an official profession and hardly kept a title. What he did when he needed money was steal from the pockets of people who looked well off enough that they wouldn't miss too much cash. With quick fingers, his hand would dive into a pocket, snatch a wallet, and he'd be off. It was a rare time when he was caught and he often sprinted off when that was the case. But since he'd moved in with Wanda, he'd been extra careful. He hadn't been caught in the act yet, though he supposed it would only be a matter of time before it happened. With stealing came risks. Pietro understood he wasn't entirely untouchable, no matter how good he was at his trade.
When he got a wallet, he'd walk with it until he felt he was in a safe enough distance to peruse the contents. He didn't take cards, only cash, and would then toss the thing in a dumpster. He figured he was a minor inconvenience in the lives of the people he stole from and didn't feel especially guilty when he opened a wallet to find ten different credit cards and a few family photos. He figured someone with that many credit cards was stupid anyway and deserved the hassle of having to close and reopen their accounts. Family pictures were useless and mostly meaningless and he figured they had copies anyway. His thieving was practically a victimless crime as far as he was concerned.
When he just didn't feel like stealing, he sometimes took to what he considered "honest work." In the early morning hours into the early afternoon, he'd take his violin, the one he'd paid for in New York and practiced on until he got good on the streets, and head to a beach to play for money.
On this particular Saturday, with the sun beaming down on his naked torso, Pietro played a mix of popular songs he heard on the radio and old classics he'd learned from books. The violin case was open before his feet and littered with small coins and dollar bills. Pietro tended to pick beaches at random, gravitating more towards tourist spots. In his pocket, he had a wallet that contained a fake student ID that identified him as Django Frank. In case of trouble, like a police officer getting too close, he'd profess that he was a music student and just getting some practice in. He hadn't ever really found himself in trouble for playing music. It wasn't as though he went down the boardwalk begging for money; he played and they donated. That he used his natural talents and charm to talk stupid, pretty girls out of change wasn't really the biggest sin.
Repeated shows had left Pietro's skin a far darker shade than was normal for him. He wore a fedora on his head to keep the sun out of his eyes and swim trunks covered his bottom half. Sometimes when he finished and he counted out his money, he would put the violin away in the back of his car and go for a quick swim.
Life was pleasant in California. Things just felt easier here than they had on the east coast. That was probably thanks to the fact that he wasn't alone anymore, Pietro knew. As he played absentmindedly to a small crowd of teenagers, Pietro wondered how long he could keep this lifestyle up. If it was up to him, he'd never get a solid job. But still the concept of actually working loomed over his head. He didn't really feel a need to be honest. Pietro could see himself swindling people for the rest of his life. But he honestly believed that his sister deserved better. And he found it a nice idea to be able to provide a bit more than a week's worth of groceries and partial rent.
"Do you know California Girls?" A young woman with green eyes asked him, shaking him out of his reverie.
"Actually," Pietro said as he pulled the bow across the strings for the last note of a song. "I think I might be done for the day." He stooped low and checked the phone that sat in the violin case. Three in the afternoon was typically closing time. "But if you come back next week, I'll play it for you." He gave her a warm grin that he didn't really feel but seemed to satisfy her. She giggled and walked off with a friend and Pietro watched them go before he gathered his things together. The walk to his car was fast. He settled his case in the trunk and hid the money in a secret little spot in the dashboard.
For a moment, he considered going straight home but then stopped himself. It was beautiful outside and it felt like a day for a swim. So Pietro closed up his car and headed out toward the surf.