ROLEPLAY HQ - benjamin-mcavoy

Harper Navallo, 22, F Thief, runner, sketch aritst Not friendly, cynical, pragmatic Short, sporty, mouthy

Benjamin McAvoy, 39, M intelligent, patient, business-driven Tall, well-dressed, direct

Harper's feet dangled over the edge of the apartment building, gazing at the buildings slowing coming to life with lights and movement as the sun went down. The heels of well-worn running shoes thudded against brick and she drew in a deep breath. The city of Vega wasn’t impressive by any standards. The more she’d traveled… the more everything looked the same. Every city she stopped in had bars, good parts and bad, big parks, and busy streets. This would be as good as any for now. She’d spent the last few weeks simply wandering the city. If she was going to steal, and run, she needed to know the place better than whoever she might be running from. With the setting sun, nightlife promised easy pickpocketing and shadows to disappear into. She kicked one leg back over onto the rooftop and dug through her backpack. One bunched-up lacy number had its own interior pocket. A deep teal soft lace covered more than the average club dress, and Harper had no issue stripping on some rooftop to get ready. It wasn’t exactly like she had an apartment. Her whole life fit into a grey and green backpack bungeed compact, and well-worn. The Red Satin Nightclub was full of people looking to be anyone else. It took a while to find in the seedy part of town, but everyone carried cash, and few were likely to call the authorities and admit they were at a club that had a room for every vice. She combed her fingers through her hair, stepped forward in the line and tilted her head to the sky. It would likely rain tonight, so that would be one more thing to deal with later. Short dresses and long eyelashes were always allowed in without a cover charge. She descended into the bar area with a smirk. This was her playground.

While he wasn’t exactly new to the city, he still found no charm in the Red Satin. Benjamin saw it for what it was: a convenient neutral meeting ground. The half-smoked cigarette hung from his lips while he tapped away at his phone. The VIP lounge with private tables wouldn’t get onto him about smoking. This meeting was supposed to be quick. A face-to-face with a local dealer to secure business. The booming music from the floors below thumped along the soles of his shoes. His dull annoyed stare met any passing wait staff with a very clear message. Fuck off. He drew in a deep breath and let his shoulders relax as he sat back surveying the bar. Up in this section, booths and satin curtains separated different sitting areas. The wait staff seemed to take their jobs seriously enough, having announced themselves as they entered earshot. There was no way they were unaware of the illegal dealings done at these tables. At the very least they would be tipped well. He grumbled and slid from the table. They were late, and he would not do business with someone who couldn’t keep appointments. The grand staircase that allowed patrons to descend into sin, was also the quickest way back to his car. Maybe there was time to salvage his evening yet.

Harper’s flats spun easily across the dancefloor. The crowd was more than enough cover to skim pockets. Guys more interested in how close their hips could get to yours… they would hardly notice a hand or pair of fingers relieving them of their wallet. Women were a little harder. Small bags, or skin tight dresses. She’d have to dance with them for a while, but they usually carried more cash… and no cards. Adept Petite hands make no haste in collecting anything of value. Necklaces, watches. Harper’s well-oiled routine hasn’t been clocked in so long, all of the worry is gone from the task. She’ll have stolen enough to grab a room for the night and eat for the next few days. Her hand slips into the well-tailored suit of a passer-by when she’s jolted sideways by her wrist. She tries to rake her knuckles over his forearm and give herself enough room to run.

Crossing the dance floor was an unfortunate requirement if he was going to make the quickest exit to his car. Benjamin didn’t mind shifting through the groups having a wonderful time, that was all part of the clubs' experience. The flashing lights and booming bass set the hair on the back of his neck on edge. His shoulders tensed with every passing moment through the crowd. By the time a small hand snaked into his jacket, he snapped. Benjamins's calloused hand clamped around hers, the wallet crushed in her grip as he yanked her off balance. Grey cold eyes dropped to the would-be thief. Her attempt to free herself stung as the muscles in his forearm rolled under sharp little knuckles. “Where I’m froom, You don’t get the ‘and back.” He seethed just loud enough down to be heard. His other calm and steady hand retrieved his wallet, all the while a steele interest waited to see a reaction. Was he itching to get into a fight? Absolutely. The booming bass tickled his shoulder blades and the flashing lights unsettled his hands. Benjamin's hand tightened around hers and he groaned in annoyance. He was not itching to fight a woman ten inches shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.

“Glad Im not from there.” She raked her heel down his shin and accepted whatever bruises came from yanking her hand free of his. The wallet had fallen in the attempt, but she was free of his grip and disappeared into the crowd. Wasn't often she got caught anymore… and his accent was entertaining. Harper knew better than to stay where she’d already been caught once. She collected the small bag of wallets and cash she had stashed to add to. A loose tile in the floor to ceiling stall in one of the bathrooms. Sure balancing on the toilet seat and using another foot on top of the toilet paper holder… she barely reached her score and slipped back down out of sight as the heavy creaking door opened and a gaggle of girls entered loudly. She adjusted her purse, and exited the stall. A quick wash of her hands, a polite smile… and she was home free to leave and grab something to eat…. And get out of the stupid dress.

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