Be careful as you go... (Open)

[amir]

((OOC: -steals a Gav line doesn't care))
Amir had hoped to find a back route in to avoid been noticed coming back from a day of selling by Louis’ gang. So far it had seemed to be so good, if he could avoid them he could hopefully fake bad day of selling and having been unable to make a coin. Then maybe he’d be able to add some to his hopefully hidden savings so he could try and get outta this mess totally. He was risking it he knew, but Inshallah all would be well. Maybe this was a bit low, and a bit sneaky but he’d learnt from the Romany sometimes that was the only way to survive.

He rounded a corner before backpedalling rapidly spotting some top hats. At this time they were unlikely to be anyone of the upper class. Swiftly now he broke into a run looking for some where to hide, some way to get out of easy finding until they’d well and truly passed. He knew he was acting like a frightened rabbit in a trap or been chased by hounds but he honestly couldn’t help it. For once he wanted to have some coin left that was more than one meagre tiny coin that’d not get him a scrap. He was all too aware of the fact that the more often he had to rely on the head of the gang for his food the more indebt he’d be. He wasn’t that stupid. All he currently wanted was a nice job, maybe as a stable hand. But with that not currently an option he ran.

Deep in the warren of streets just off the main square he paused listening. He couldn’t hear the sound of chase, maybe he’d got away with it. Still he walked looking all around him, even walking backwards to check his back. It was on one of these moments of walking backwards he walked slap bang into someone who at that point was behind him giving a startled yell. Already he was moving to whip round to see who it was, one hand reaching for the blade that would normally be used to carve the wood. He wasn’t above chivving a person if he had to, his whole stance wary and unsure.

[VICTOR D'ANTHÈS]

Somewhat drunk and his pockets considerably lightened after a bad streak of luck gambling, Victor d'Anthes decided it was time to head home. The unfamiliar Parisian streets were difficult for the cavalry captain to move about in the dark, and intoxication didn't help. He would have to get home and get some rest so that he wouldn't turn up hungover or otherwise looking like something less than a professional officer in the morning.

It wouldn't do to show up like that with such a young student. He didn't want to encourage his lifestyle to the king too strongly, even if a certain degree of it was suited to an aristocrat. The drinking and gambling, at least, could tend to make you walk home alone from probably rough parts of town late in the evening. Victor could handle himself, but the king? That would be an assassination risk, especially with these damned revolutionaries crawling about.

And there, suddenly, some panicked street kid ran into him while walking backwards. Victor wasn't immediately sure what to make of this situation; firstly, why was some urchin walking backwards down the street? He made some inadvertent sound at the unexpected collision, drawing back and brushing himself off. No telling what sort of lice the boy might be carrying.

“Watch it, kid!” He was impressed with the lack of slur in his own voice, though with his habits, years in military academies had taught him to fake sobriety reasonably convincingly. He was tempted to give the boy a bit of a push out of his path, but really didn't want to touch him. The fear of lice was still there, and what was the boy running from? He'd probably stolen something and was being chased by the wronged party.

Or maybe he was just crazy. There were plenty of crazy street children in Paris, he was sure of that. He doubted crazy was catching, unless it was syphilitic—and he had no intention of doing anything that might bring that on—but he decided it wasn't worth the chance anyway.

He mumbled his accusation of insanity under his breath.