Morning Constitutional [Zeff]

The people in this town walked to a waltz beat-- 'one two three one two three'... practiced, robotic in its grace. Weird, to a man--boy, really-- who'd learned to walk to the uneven and slinky beat of the klezmer band.

Which made it all the more easier to weave around them, subtly snaking his hand into their purses or their wallets or where their golden pocketwatch was (he could tell how many hours had passed seven different ways since that morning!). If he somehow brushed or shoved against a lady, he would make his best apology, tip his hat and grin before swiveling back around as smoothly as if he was water flowing over rocks, being tossed this way and that by the crowd but managing to stay fluid.

Unfortunately, most of what he had gotten today had been pocketwatches. It was all either businessmen or ladies' maids shopping. There were a few high class people around. And maybe it was principle, but it felt too wrong to steal something that someone had only just bought. It was all either fabric or food. No use to him. So he kept on dipping his hand into the pockets of strangers, apologizing, and rolling away with a charming smile.

"Excuse me~"

"Sorry, Madam, you have simply struck me dumb for a moment. I'll move along after one last look at you, huh?"

And on occasion, "Pardon me-- sir, madam? My sight is lost and so is my cane."

As he was wafting away from one more theft victim, he was caught off guard and nearly fell into another person. For all his charm, he barely managed to cover up a curse, and bounced back waiting to see if said person was big enough to beat him (as would certainly be the outcome in Odessa).

((AFTER MUCH DELIBERATING--))

Annelie was as busy as ever, even considering the fact that she technically had the afternoon off, since the mistress's brother had taken her out. She didn't complain, and she certainly never said anything about it to Therese (least she become even more self-conscious), but she probably worked twice as hard as other ladies' maids. Constantly fixing and washing coffee stains out of clothes, constantly trying to find and implement hairstyles that couldn't be pulled, constantly trying to make the mistress's nerve-wracked life more comfortable, to no avail. It was tiresome work. Not thankless--she had a good and close friend in her mistress--just tiresome. But she was a hardy woman, and so having a lot of work served her personality well.

Rather than spend her rare free time relaxing, she was rushing about just as if it were any other day, stocking up on sewing supplies--which she always seemed to be low on. The basket she'd brought with her to carry her purchases was getting quite full, and just as she'd glanced down at it to wonder if she'd spent too much that day...

WHAM!

...Well, it was not so much a 'wham' as it was a 'bump', but it nearly had the same effect. Startled, the basket was dropped and its contents exploded out all over the street, spools shooting out and rolling in all directions, and delicate bundles of lace and embroidery thread tumbling into the dirt of thousands of people's shoes. Soiled. Ruined.

"Ahh!!" Annelie dropped to the ground, desperately trying to pick up everything as quickly as possible, as if haste would save it from being sullied. In the panic of the moment, she had reacted to her fallen materials before reacting to the person who'd knocked into her. But while she may not have been very big or very threatening, or a man...she still might have boxed his ears.

He heard someone exclaim and then something drop on the ground with a clatter. Before he could see if other people were looking around for the culprit, he began to bolt.

That is, until he realized that the people rushing by didn't really care what had dropped from whose hands. It really was different, here. In that time, his conscience had caught up with him, and he turned to see what had happened. Could it be his fault that the ground was dirty? He still felt bad about it-- and it looked safe enough, that he wasn't going to get into too much trouble.

As much as he was born into the gang life, he was more terrified of jail and being hurt than anything. So, with a little hesitation, he slinked back to where the woman's things had dropped. "I'm really sorry, Tsarina--" His charm didn't sound so smooth when he was nervous. He pulled some lace out of the mud. Not knowing quite what he was doing or that it was nigh impossible to clean things like that, he placed it in the basket again. If anything clean was in there.... it wasn't anymore. "I'll pick it up, it ain't anything, don't you worry about it..." He just continued to pile more dirty things back in the basket without letting her get a word in edgewise. Like a gentleman.

"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey!" She cried in dismay, when the culprit came back and started throwing things haphazardly back into the basket, sullying everything she'd managed to salvage.

Pinching him by the ear, as if he were one of the lower servants, she gave him a good yanking, "Ain't anything? It's all dirty now, innit? Now what'd you expect me to do? S'ppose I go to the master, askin' for more money, sayin' I gone an spen' it all, 'cept I dropped everything in the mud? It's comin' outta my pocket, next!" Normally, she was trained to speak in a more dignified manner (as all ladies' maids were expected to--especially at times like these, when she wasn't even in uniform), but in moments of upset, her old accent tended to...'come out'. She had, after all, been a scullery maid.

"And where were you runnin' off to, eh? Figured I didn't notice? Little sneak--" She kept a firm grip on his ear, so that he couldn't take off again. If he typically appeared younger than he was, then she was the opposite: a middle-aged governess living in a young woman's body.


((What kind of accent is this, idek--))

When a sharp pain shot through his ear, he plain forgot how to speak the language altogether. "Agh...! Oplozn mikh...!! L-let go-- I was just trying to hilf-- help you!! I didn't run away, I came back-- hey!!"

Master? Who the hell worked for somebody they had to call master? No one he knew. "Ikh bet dikh-- don't... just don't call the police..." He was resigned. He hadn't expected her to accost him, and hopefully she wouldn't call the authorities. They wouldn't treat a Jew well-- expecially not if they found the watches. "I'll pay for it, just let go, let me give you something..." He flashed a bit of the gold in his jacket, and disclosed quietly "I gotta take it to an appraiser first... but its worth it. I got more of 'em... All mine, of course."

Unable to do much but sit and wait, he flashed a smile at her that had just a hint of a wince. He didn't tell her that he first had to file down the monograms and names etched onto them.

Gradually loosening up on her grip, she finally let go, though she kept a stern gaze fixed on him. Standing up with one hand holding her basket and the other dusting her skirts off, she clicked her tongue, "S'there a reason I ought'er be callin' the police?"

Almost as soon as she asked, she got her answer--or at least, what she suspected might be an answer. She was an honest woman (it was part of the job; she herself handled all of Therese's jewelry, which was no job for a liar or a thief), but also a worldly one. Not so naive as to immediately buy that these were legitimately all his. Unless he was a watchmaker--but then why would he need to get them appraised?

"I won't be gettin' mixed up in any shady business," she warned, "It'd be a lie ta say I wouldn't take ye' up, but not if i's gonna land me in trouble."

"Not unless you don't want to rectify this situation easily," She still seemed mad. "And of course, to be that good looking is criminal, Tsarina." It seemed to work, in Odessa.

She clearly had no idea how criminals worked-- though he wasn't really a criminal. He didn't think so, at least. "Shady business? I only live off of what I need, the rest I give away." Then, catching himself, he corrected, "I'll have you know I'm from a very prominent family," lie, "and I really do enjoy giving away my fortunes and it'd be a right shame to walk away from this opportunity, honey." He began walking away from the crowds and to the opening of an alley. "And if I was a criminal, who's gonna connect us? Who ya gonna confess to if ya don't even know what people call me?"

He was a talker, but was momentarily silenced for a moment when he temporarily held the file in his mouth to pull out two gold watches. "It's a gift, that's all," he mumbled around the metal. "Personally you don't seem trustworthy enough to let you in my personal affairs; I'm a pretty important guy."

Adjusting his hat and smiling at her one more time, he put the file to the monograms on the back and rubbed them off before she could get a good look. "This is probably more than you spent on that cotton, or whatever, but just call it my gift to you."

"Oh, hush, you're not flattering anyone. And what's that you're calling me?" She dismissed the silliness (or what she perceived as silliness--who was he trying to fool, anyways?), while simultaneously reminding herself to speak properly, "My name is Annelie, thank you." She only knew about Queens and Kaiserinnen, but even if she had heard of the Tsarina, it was doubtful she would have been impressed. The lower maids in the house often called her 'Frau Sensible' when they thought she wasn't listening.

And she may not have had any idea how criminals worked, but she certainly knew how 'important' people did (i.e. not like this). Serving in the household that she did meant that she knew about most of the prominent families around, either by directly encountering them as guests of the Von Steyrs, or through snippets she picked up from Therese, friends in town, or rarely, when she chatted with them, other servants in the household. (It helped that she was sometimes something of a busybody.) Even if she was going to buy the fishy act, the mannerisms and suspicious behavior, he wasn't any prominent nobility that she recognized. If he wanted to play like this, though... 

Dropping a curtsey, she adjusted her attitude accordingly, "Please excuse me, sir, I ought to have held my tongue." As she straightened up, she continued compliantly, keeping her gaze down in a respectful manner, "You're too generous...I'd feel ashamed to accept such a gift after behaving so cheekily. As a servant of the Von Steyr family, I should have recognized you straight away, Herr...?" 

He shrugged for the nth time that conversation.  "Its a compliment, depending on who ya ask." He filed the second watch down.  "I guess you ain't one of them."

One perk of leaving his home was that he could pretend to be someone else.  He could be whomever he wanted, to a certain extent.  And he could pretend he wasn't what he was, only to look back later and hate himself all the more for it.  

"The name's Richelieu," He lied, citing the statue that he used to walk by nearly every day.  He was confused, and so he curtsied back.  "I'm French, it you can't tell." The French were backwards, everyone knew it.  Maybe that's how he could explain himself.  "I'm here on pleasure, but this place is a bit too stuffy and cold for me.  So I'm giving up my fortunes, so it's easier to get back home." If all this failed he could always return to Moldavanka and disguise himself as a babushka for the rest of his life.  

"I don't know why you're talking like that," He wrinkled his nose at the formality.  "But if you want to waste your own time, go ahead." He shook a now nameless watch in front of her.  "But I'm a busy man and your time to get this money is running out, sweetie."

Covering a grin with one hand--though there was no covering up the laughter--she dropped the pretense, "Ha! 'Fraid I can't tell." She yanked at his ear again (less violently and more teasingly, this time), "Nice story--I would have heard if there were any prominent 'Richelieus' in town."

Nevertheless, she accepted the watch, "Suppose I won't tell on you, though. If they ask where it's from, I'll say a fellow named Richelieu." Inspecting it for a moment, then pocketing it (putting it in the basket would only ruin it--she'd have to take out the lining later and wash it), she dropped another curtsey, "So thank ya kindly, sir. I won't waste anymore of your time."

And with that, she took her leave--really, it was her own time that was being wasted. At this rate, it could be quite late until she got home. Hopefully Therese would be alright...

((Didn't know where else to go with this--if you want to continue, I can totally jump in with another character. XD))

She didn't talk fancy enough to be someone who would rub elbows with prominent people. But he could bet that she worked for someone who did. And that someone must have been a woman, judging from what she was buying. Whether that woman was old or young (maybe preferably old-- they usually liked him more), it didn't matter-- he knew she would have money. It was a new con opportunity. ...And maybe an opportunity to show this Annelie up for not believeing his lie.

"Ya can't just take that!" He swatted her hand away while simultaneously reaching for the watches. He was going to get money for it himself... and give her less than what was given to him. She was buying for a rich lady, right? Huffing, he gave up, not wanting to bear the wrath of her pinching anymore (because his ears stuck out quite a bit already). "Fine," He ran a hand through his curls before replacing his hat, which had fallen off again, when she grabbed his ear (even teasing it felt assaultive--). "This isn't the last of me, you know-- I'll be a big name in this place, soon...! Soon you'll regret not hearing of me!" For a man on the run, he had quite the ego.

An ego that was going to have him spend more money on the trappings of a rich man for the day and pay a visit to this Annelie and whoever her mistress was.

((I'm done, just had to set it up for the next time he'll be appearing, but if you want to add someone that's fine too XD))