[there's been no indication this person would be hostile to simply...asking for it back. but then, there's no telling what they'll do if Knife shows any desire for it more than a passing fancy, and that's not even setting aside the fact they have the damn thing obscured in a pocket!
this'd be so much easier to figure out were Soliton here...he'd be able to distract her with his charms, befuddle her long enough so Knife could just slink in and pickpocket it and be done with it! but in a place like this, with so many unknowns, with so few escape routes or safehouses (like, none?!), simply pilfering and running to hope for the best is...stupid.
...so is being openly hostile. that's stupid, too.
this sneaky, slinky shit? it's...well, it's not smart, but it's a few ladder rungs higher on the intelligence ladder compared to the previous options in this circumstance.
what? was he supposed to, like, wait this out? make friends and steal it months later?
fuck that. Knife wants whats theirs now.
they've shifted into something smaller, light and nimble, because the illusion of bulk and strength wasn't going to do them many favors right now. and hey, if all else fails? maybe having the face and stature of a human child will appease to some better nature; they even make their hair thick and fluffy like that ugly fucking puffball they saw her strutting around with hours earlier.
they're going to try this deftly, but only once. and failing that? it's knives out.
child-Knife, layered in mottled clothes, brown of skin and amber of hair and eyes, follows at a distance and hastens only when the buildings close into an alley that feels serviceable. the...silence of this city is harrowing; one would think it'd make things easier, but an absence of crowds and activity removes layers of safety that are hard to replicate. it makes them even more alone than ever.
heart hammering, they swallow, take a steadying breath, hold it, and then let out a twittering whistle, thrown to seem to be coming from the direction opposite. a test: just how much has this lady drank, and is it in Knife's favor?]
no subject
this'd be so much easier to figure out were Soliton here...he'd be able to distract her with his charms, befuddle her long enough so Knife could just slink in and pickpocket it and be done with it! but in a place like this, with so many unknowns, with so few escape routes or safehouses (like, none?!), simply pilfering and running to hope for the best is...stupid.
...so is being openly hostile. that's stupid, too.
this sneaky, slinky shit? it's...well, it's not smart, but it's a few ladder rungs higher on the intelligence ladder compared to the previous options in this circumstance.
what? was he supposed to, like, wait this out? make friends and steal it months later?
fuck that. Knife wants whats theirs now.
they've shifted into something smaller, light and nimble, because the illusion of bulk and strength wasn't going to do them many favors right now. and hey, if all else fails? maybe having the face and stature of a human child will appease to some better nature; they even make their hair thick and fluffy like that ugly fucking puffball they saw her strutting around with hours earlier.
they're going to try this deftly, but only once. and failing that? it's knives out.
child-Knife, layered in mottled clothes, brown of skin and amber of hair and eyes, follows at a distance and hastens only when the buildings close into an alley that feels serviceable. the...silence of this city is harrowing; one would think it'd make things easier, but an absence of crowds and activity removes layers of safety that are hard to replicate. it makes them even more alone than ever.
heart hammering, they swallow, take a steadying breath, hold it, and then let out a twittering whistle, thrown to seem to be coming from the direction opposite. a test: just how much has this lady drank, and is it in Knife's favor?]