he stole my wallet affectionately and then i punched his donuts: the log, the memories

[slingshots]

Who: Giorno & Carrie
Where: some shady westerly market street
When: a couple months ago!
Summary: here it is, the pre-cr mobile, toot toot
Restrictions/Warnings: probably nothing

[ Lately she's been putting together a kind of a uniform. She's not sure what makes it a uniform, exactly, it's not like going out and being places she shouldn't is a job — but it's kind of comforting to think of it that way, to have something to pull on and make things feel official.

She's sort of regretting not having made it a uniform day today.

The action of a chase down a bustling market street caught her immediately, even if she wasn't anywhere near the middle of it. People being shoved, packages going flying, a runner with what had to be two RAC agents in tow. She was after the lot of them in a flash, and then in a few minutes more had darted down a side street, sprung up a fire escape, and followed along overhead, instead. The rooftop highway is just so much more convenient, even if you're just a kid in ripped up pants and a jacket that's seen better days.

It enabled her to pull ahead of the little caravan, pick a corner with fewer bodies all in the way, and leap down about 10 seconds advance of the lead racer. He'd been too startled to avoid her, a with a dumbfounded look that she'd loved being the cause of, and she'd dropped a swift sweep to knock his feet out from under him. Then it was just a matter of standing proudly by as the other two caught up to grab their guy. The pair — one of them seemingly her age, which is something to consider — hadn't stuck around long for thanks, but that was fine. They had a job to do, she figured.

Man, but that was fun. The killjoy business, she thinks for the twentieth time, is really something to look into. But for now she's seated at a nearby outdoor cafe, under the arch of a dry table umbrella, enjoying what she feels is a well-earned coffee. An after-chase coffee. Honestly the best kind. ]

Comments

[tropism]

[ talk about unexpected. the moment he feels her feet hit his back giorno only has a split second to make a decision as to how he chooses to fall: flat on his face, or on his side to spare his face directly. he falls on his side instead, arms over his head as he rolls away from her. he scratches his lip on the concrete; giorno grins, still in good humour, as he establishes some distance between them. ]

That was quick.

[ they're given a wide berth; westies are more interested in watching a fight than stopping it, after all, but a fight between two kids isn't exactly worth cheering or staying for. ]

[slingshots]

[ Robin lands in a crouch and springs lightly up to a more ready one, eyeing him with a twist of as mild a frown as she can manage. Not keeping up the chase after getting hit changes things a little. Is he making this a fight, or is this something else entirely? ]

Guess I wanted that lunch money you promised.

[ She straightens a little more, the frown fading back into a wary neutrality. ]

Weird move, getting me your digits then making off with the wallet.

[tropism]

Weird move, [ giorno repeats, agreeing with her. ] But not entirely unexpected?

[ he feels blood dripping from his mouth; he's been careless, he thinks, and his brother will laugh at him. that's alright. giorno wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, cool as a cucumber. he glances around them. from here to another busy street it'd take him a few blocks of weaving and darting through buildings, and that's if she doesn't get a headstart first - which he suspects she will - or if he doesn't get into a fight for breaking and entering - which is likely, but he's got the RAC to think of. they likely wouldn't want a level 1 brat who's in the company's books right when he's just fitting awkwardly around the edges.

well, then, if those are his choices ....

he shrugs, and withdraws her wallet from his pocket; out of courtesy, he adds the lunch money, as promised. he gives it to her. ]

I'll keep your digits.

[slingshots]

[ She watches him carefully, tracking each movement he makes, even as he holds out the wallet. A dozen traps start that way. But whatever she sees in him, it doesn't set off any alarm bells.

She shifts forward to take the wallet and makes it disappear back into a pocket (a deeper pocket this time, in her jacket). Giorno gets the close scrutiny for just a couple seconds more before her balanced and readied hold rolls into something more casual. Hands pocketed, stance narrower. She's not not ready to move, but no longer broadcasting the fact. ]

Maybe you should lose 'em, spud. [ no one says that, why does that slip out sometimes... But more importantly:

Why would she want to help out a wallet thief? Not to say she wouldn't, of course, she'd let go of a grudge with a decent reason for it. It's the reason she's looking for. ]

[tropism]

[ he can feel the wallet disappear. probably has something to do with the blood on his fingers that caught onto her wallet, but. details.

an explanation for his part is expected. he supposed it's his turn to talk. giorno tilts his head to the side, and then, murmurs, ] It's one thing to live in Westerly, it's another to be able to live with it.

I don't think you're older than me. But you move in this city the same way I do, so - someone must've taught you, the way I had to learn things before I sold my soul for a couple of warrants. [ that's a bit dramatic, but you get his drift. ]

The rest of it's just - [ a shrug. ] I supplement my income with side jobs. Like I said: not entirely unexpected.

I won't bother you anymore, Robin. [ a pause. ] At least, I won't be stealing your wallet anymore, there's not much in it to begin with anyway. [ wow!!! ] Is that your real name? Well, it doesn't matter. It's nice. Like the bird, I guess. Or just a nickname for the more stately version of the name. [ that is, robert. ]

[slingshots]

[ So there was a plan to it. A test. Well, that, or he's good with excuses on the spot. Either way he's going to be someone to watch, that's for sure. She listens quietly, the same way she does anything, and his words dissipate her irritation.

After all, it'd been kind of fun.

Only when he gets to the speculation does she speak up: ] It was a guy in a story. Robin Hood.

[ Maybe he knows it. She barely remembers it herself, the story feels like something she'd heard in early childhood and forgotten most of. But she remembers the gist, enough that the name had appealed to her when she got around to picking. ]

Or the bird. [ That's with a little glimmer of a smile back again. ] Whatever helps you remember it. Call me, maybe you can keep hands off next time.

[ And she won't mind a next time. She expects it, even. He's an interesting guy. ]

[tropism]

A guy .... wasn't he a fox? [ maybe he's confusing things, who knows.

giorno looks a bit more relaxed, discarding the hat to the side - he was never really one for hats - and fluffing his ornate curls again, before slipping his hands back into his pockets as he smiles at her and leaves. ]

But sure. I'm always around.

[ he'll probably need to stop by ignis' place to get food now. that's alright, he gained something in return.

( in other news, he'll see how far the tracking can keep up until it disintegrates and fades from his mind. that's interesting, too. ) ]