It hasn't been a good day for Ezra. Or a good week for him, really. Between begging and scrounging for food in the dumpsters, he's usually able to come up with enough to keep him from starving, and when that fails, snitching food from the stalls in the market would normally make up the difference, but this week... People get tired of giving away their money, especially if you ask too often, and getting food from the dumpsters only works if there's food there and you beat all the competition for it. Maybe the Loth-rats ate it first, or maybe other homeless people, but he hasn't gotten more than a half-eaten jogan from the bins, and the street vendors keep watching him.
He's getting desperate.
Stomach twinging painfully, he scans the street, looking for someone who isn't paying attention to him. If he can't steal from the stalls, maybe there's a tourist or someone who won't miss a few credits from their pockets. Maybe even an Imperial, if he thinks he can get away with it. They deserve to have stuff taken from them. They're the ones who take stuff, who take people-
It takes an effort of will to drag his mind away from that thought. He needs food. He needs to focus on that.
There's a Bothan passing by who isn't paying attention. Ezra's eyes land on him, follow him down the street. Just as the little boy's about to start tailing him, though...
Something tugs at his attention.
Something draws his eye.
Something whispers in his mind, in his instincts. Only a year on the streets, but Ezra's learned to listen to his feelings. He turns his head and- Yeah. Yeah. That Zabrak looks like a much better target. His clothes are nice and his boots are shiny and he's got to have money if he's coming to the market from the direction of the ship yards. Ezra doesn't think to question why he's sure that's where the man came from. It's just a feeling, like the one that prompts him to edge his way closer and closer until-
-he's close enough-
-and sure the Zabrak isn't looking-
-and quick as lightning, he snatches for Garth'zel pocket.
no subject
He's getting desperate.
Stomach twinging painfully, he scans the street, looking for someone who isn't paying attention to him. If he can't steal from the stalls, maybe there's a tourist or someone who won't miss a few credits from their pockets. Maybe even an Imperial, if he thinks he can get away with it. They deserve to have stuff taken from them. They're the ones who take stuff, who take people-
It takes an effort of will to drag his mind away from that thought. He needs food. He needs to focus on that.
There's a Bothan passing by who isn't paying attention. Ezra's eyes land on him, follow him down the street. Just as the little boy's about to start tailing him, though...
Something tugs at his attention.
Something draws his eye.
Something whispers in his mind, in his instincts. Only a year on the streets, but Ezra's learned to listen to his feelings. He turns his head and- Yeah. Yeah. That Zabrak looks like a much better target. His clothes are nice and his boots are shiny and he's got to have money if he's coming to the market from the direction of the ship yards. Ezra doesn't think to question why he's sure that's where the man came from. It's just a feeling, like the one that prompts him to edge his way closer and closer until-
-he's close enough-
-and sure the Zabrak isn't looking-
-and quick as lightning, he snatches for Garth'zel pocket.