[Open] You've got to pick a pocket or two

[versatilehand]

WHO Eames & anyone! Open.
WHAT Arthur and Eames have been here a while now. They're planning on getting to the bottom of their situation through dream-sharing, but the materials required don't come cheap. So Eames is on the look out for some easy money.
WHERE The streets around the Hill
WHEN Tuesday evening.
NOTES Multiple threads welcome! Eames is

Comments

[cerealboxbadge]

On the surface, Neal Caffrey looks like the perfect mark. Obscenely expensive suit, meticulously groomed hair despite the heat, casual gait, no apparent destination in sight; a rich man lost but trying to pretend he knows exactly where his meandering will take him.

The truth of the matter is he's actually thinking along the same lines as Eames is, himself, and beyond that he's yet to collect any money to steal. Still, image is everything and until he catches any hands trying to sneak in his pockets, the perfect mark he'll continue to appear to be.

[versatilehand]

The man Eames spots appears to be almost too perfect. He has every single sign of the perfect mark; expensive clothes, innocent face, the signs of being a little on the lost side.

It's the perfection that makes Eames cautious.

"Hello!" He calls out when he thinks the man will hear him, listening to his suspicion and deciding against the quick brush as he passes. "Could you spare me a minute?"

[cerealboxbadge]

Never trust a silver platter, as they say.

The smile Neal turns on Eames is a little frazzled, a hint of relief behind it. 'Oh thank God, an excuse to stop' is the general feel. (He practiced that one for ages, it's a good smile.) "Sure, of course. I'm just taking everything in, anyway."

[versatilehand]

Eames' fingers sneak slowly forward as the man engages him in conversation, being incredibly careful to keep a close eye on the man's facial expression and body language. Any hint of him being more than he seems, and Eames is stepping away and not taking this any further.

"I'm new," he says, sounding meek, apologetic. "And altogether quite lost."

[cerealboxbadge]

Any attempt to lift from Neal will end in nothing-- he's flat broke, living in a hostel; it's a temporary state, but still not one he's happy with-- and a light hand on Eames' wrist, maybe a rueful smile. He's not enough of a hypocrite to care about his own tricks being turned back on him, so long as they don't work. (If they do work, he's just enough of a hypocrite, but that's another day.)

"Then we're in the same boat." He keeps his posture open, unguarded. "I haven't even made it a week, yet."

[versatilehand]

Managing to slip a few fingers inside the man's pocket, Eames is disappointed to find it empty. Still, he hasn't gotten to where he is today by giving up without a fight, and he starts making his way towards the next available pocket.

"Oh? Well, in that case..." Eames laughs, open and warm. "I wish I could offer you some advice."

[cerealboxbadge]

"I could always offer some of my own." Oh, this guy's good. Neal's impressed in spite of himself. "I'm an awful mark, and that pocket you're reaching for? It doesn't even have gum in it. If you like wasting your time go for it, but I thought I might save us both a little effort."

He doesn't move to stop Eames, doesn't tense or move in any way. There's no point; the only thing he has to steal is his cut anklet, and that's safely hidden away. And beyond that, image is everything. Staying unruffled while informing someone they've been made has more panache than getting angry.

[versatilehand]

Eames can't be angry, or ashamed, when it's clear that his suspicions have been confirmed. He has a strong feeling the man is in the same profession as himself, and for that reason, he's smiling as he pulls back.

"A man after own heart, I believe?"

[cerealboxbadge]

Neal returns that smile, smoothing down the front of his suit carefully and then taking off his fedora, spinning it idly in his hands.

"I'd say we're in similar lines of work. That was impressive, by the way. I almost missed it." He didn't almost miss it, but that's just another piece in his act.

[versatilehand]

"Eames," Eames introduces himself, offering up a hand to shake. He doesn't normally give out his true name in a first meeting with a stranger, but there's something about this man he just wants to trust. Call it brothers in arms.

[cerealboxbadge]

"Nick Halden." Neal takes that hand, then after a beat adds, "Or Neal Caffrey. But it's Nick as far as most of the city is concerned." There's a difference between conning the average populace and other people who play the same games he does. He'll lie to Eames and not lose a moment's sleep if he needs to, but the man at least deserves something other than Neal's favorite alias. Honor among thieves, something like that.

[versatilehand]

"Your secret's safe with me," Eames grins, reading successfully between the lines.

"I don't suppose you've found any better spots, for... our line of work?"

[cerealboxbadge]

"Good, I'd rather not explain yet why the name I gave everyone isn't exactly on the up and up." There's a risk involved and Neal knows it, but it's hard to blackmail someone who has nothing to take.

"So far? Not really. The hostel's a hostel--" some distaste there, because for a man who wears suits that are art pieces on their own, hostel is something of a dirty word-- "And I'm still trying to get a map in my head of where everything is, so anything bigger is off limits until then." You can't pull off a heist successfully if you have no idea where to run.

[versatilehand]

"I'm in the hostel too," Eames shares, and there's something in the way the man says the word, combined with the suit he's wearing, that reminds the forger of someone a lot closer to home.

"With an associate of mine."

[cerealboxbadge]

"It's... Spartan." Neal pauses between the words, an eyeroll just barely breaking through his default pleasant smile. "And temporary, if I have anything to say about it." No art. No huge closets. No private kitchen-- no real privacy at all. Definitely not Neal's idea of homey.

"As far as I can tell, I'm the only person I know here." Which is probably good; Peter would hate it, and Mozzie would never leave his room. "Out of curiosity, does that happen often? Finding people you know."

[versatilehand]

The hostel is far from to Eames' tastes, either, and the comment from the other man has him chuckling softly. Used to the best hotels money (and a false hotel inspector ID) can get him, he has to agree with the description.

"I came here with this associate," he explains. "We've yet to meet anybody else we know here."