Out past curfew || open
Leslie was leaning casually against the damp brick wall, the tip of one of his work sneakers tracing a crack in the pavement. He tried to look inconspicous. How one managed to look anything but shifty when standing on a dark streetcorner was fucking beyond him, though, so he suspected his efforts were mostly in vain.
Still, this beat actually going back to the angel. Leslie had heard mentions of a fire before he'd snuck out earlier and if he was forced to suffer through one more cozy night with Qaphsiel's chit-chat and knitting - fucking knitting! Who the hell even did that?! - he was going to grab those needles and jam them through his own throat just to put himself out of his misery. No thanks, he'd rather be cold and wet. At least this time he could attempt making some money.
Spotting a figure in the distance, Leslie pushed away from the wall and started walking towards them. Slow, not too obvious. The alley was narrow, perfect for this sorta thing. They got closer to each other. Leslie didn't look up at the other person, pretended to be too deep in thought to really pay attention to where he was going.
He looked up at the dark sky just as he and the other person passed each other and he bumped into them.
"Sorry," he mumbled. As he spoke, he put his gift to good use and his hand quickly slipped into the pocket of the other person's jacket, fishing for anything valuable.
