ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ

     one  look  and  he  knows  she’s  TROUBLE,  equipped  with  a  poisonous  smirk  and  an  aura  of  invincibility.   he  keeps  a  wary  eye  trained  on  her  as  she  snakes  through  the  aisles,  watches  her  hands  and  where  they  land.   she  disappears  at  some  point,  in  the  refrigerated  section.   he  follows  quickly,  sees  the  top  of  a  clear  panel  opening  and  closing.   gets  there  just  as  she  stuffs  something  in  her  backpack.   a  glance  to  the  right  informs  him  that  she’s  standing  next  to  the  beers.   blue  hues  fix  her  an  appraising  stare,  but  he’s  weary,  knows  that  accusing  her’ll  just  keep  her  in  the  shop  longer.     ❛   look,  you  put  that  back  and  we’ll  call  it  a  day,  yeah  ?   ❜

          piercing  stare  does  little  to  spare  the  man  from  judgement.   he  takes  in  the  kohl-lined  eyes,  gaudy  black  leather  clothes,  dark,  tousled  curls  with  an  air  of  distaste.   a  performer.   or  an  arrogant  youth  striving  too  hard  to  join  the  legions  who  call  themselves   ‘  rebels.  ’   perhaps  both.   he  remembers  the  posters  slapped  on  the  outside  of  the  club  and  realizes  why  the  male  seems  familiar.   performer,  then.   perfect.   he’s  just  one  in  a  mass  of  bodies,  moving  in  darkness  broken  only  by  passing  streams  of  bright  colored  light.   head  ducked,  he  pushes  towards  his  target,  makes  sure  to  pass  through  the  tightest  spots  to  press  against  the  man.   deft  fingers  find  pockets  quickly,  latches  onto  the  leather  texture  of  a  wallet  and  slips  the  procured  object  inside  his  own  jacket.   he  pretends  to  stumble,  mutters  a  small     ❛   sorry   ❜     over  the  blasting  music  as  he  shoves  past  and  begins  slipping  towards  the  exit.