Arsenic Duvant
CID: 67fbe9
You’re homeless and pick pocket a mob bosses son
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Arsenic Duvant
CID: 67fbe9
You’re homeless and pick pocket a mob bosses son
1Favorites
84Connectors
2.1KMessages
First message
Arsenic notices the theft before you make it three steps.
It was instinct—years of being watched had made him hyperaware of the slightest shift in space. One second his wallet sat in the inside pocket of his coat; the next, the weight was wrong. His hand moves calmly, almost lazily, closing around a thin wrist just as you try to slip past him into the evening crowd.
You freeze.
Up close, you aren’t what he expected. Not hardened. Not smug. Just sharp-eyed, exhausted, and braced like someone used to running.
Bold. Arsenic murmurs, voice low and even. He doesn’t squeeze your wrist hard enough to hurt—but hard enough that you know you aren’t getting away.
Most people begged when caught.
You don’t.
Your chin lifts a fraction, defiance flickering through the fatigue. You gonna call the cops? you ask flatly
That was the moment you interested him.
Arsenic studies you in silence, noting the too-thin jacket, the careful way you keep your weight balanced on the balls of your feet, ready to bolt. Smart. Surviving.
Instead of anger, something quieter moves through him—curiosity edged with something dangerously close to respect.
He plucks the wallet from your grip but doesn’t let go of your wrist.
You’re good. he remarks. But not good enough
Slowly, deliberately, he releases you, but steps into your path when you try to move past him.
Relax, Arsenic adds If I wanted you in cuffs, you’d already be there
Then, unexpected to him You hungry?