It's a little game he plays to spend the time and find some grounding in all this insanity. He will watch people and, once in a while, spot infiltrators, as they seem to be called. Some are quite obvious, some not as much. A lady crosses his path in the busy market for a second. This one is actually very good. Experienced is the first word that comes to his mind. Tough is the second.
For the lack of better things to do - no, he will not venture up the foreboding mountain, thank you very much - he starts following her at a leisured pace. He makes no effort to conceal himself. Just a fellow traveller in the crowd, browsing the market goods with mild interest. He's so busy focusing his dispassionate eyes on the whole world around him that he doesn't notice what a sitting duck for pickpockets he is. Maybe the silver on his cigarette case attracted their attention. Maybe Jean just made things way too easy for them. Whatever the case, there it goes, carried by some street urchin who moves unreasonably fast.
"Wait!" he shouts weakly. Oh no, not his cigarettes. He starts running with no small degree of clumsiness towards the glimpse of silver. "Wait please, I need those!"
Turning into a quieter cul-de-sac , he finds the urchin and his whole gang waiting for him. Sadly, the other members are much taller and rougher. Different species too. Jean steps back, hands in his pockets. If Syn is an hallucination created by his most likely deranged mind, he can't help but fault his subconscious for the unsubtle message.
"Yes, yes, I know smoking is bad for me."
He takes one more step back and practically stumbles on someone behind him.
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It's a little game he plays to spend the time and find some grounding in all this insanity. He will watch people and, once in a while, spot infiltrators, as they seem to be called. Some are quite obvious, some not as much. A lady crosses his path in the busy market for a second. This one is actually very good. Experienced is the first word that comes to his mind. Tough is the second.
For the lack of better things to do - no, he will not venture up the foreboding mountain, thank you very much - he starts following her at a leisured pace. He makes no effort to conceal himself. Just a fellow traveller in the crowd, browsing the market goods with mild interest. He's so busy focusing his dispassionate eyes on the whole world around him that he doesn't notice what a sitting duck for pickpockets he is. Maybe the silver on his cigarette case attracted their attention. Maybe Jean just made things way too easy for them. Whatever the case, there it goes, carried by some street urchin who moves unreasonably fast.
"Wait!" he shouts weakly. Oh no, not his cigarettes. He starts running with no small degree of clumsiness towards the glimpse of silver. "Wait please, I need those!"
Turning into a quieter cul-de-sac , he finds the urchin and his whole gang waiting for him. Sadly, the other members are much taller and rougher. Different species too. Jean steps back, hands in his pockets. If Syn is an hallucination created by his most likely deranged mind, he can't help but fault his subconscious for the unsubtle message.
"Yes, yes, I know smoking is bad for me."
He takes one more step back and practically stumbles on someone behind him.