After The Rain (ch2)

2-DAY EARLY RELEASE FOR ALL MY PATRONS! THANK YOU!

This chapter and the next are going to be the main story, though there will be a few other chapters to follow!

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.

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												Chapter 2. Mandatory Inaction

Several weeks went by as Roman continued his daily business, scamming and robbing when he could and laying low when he had to. And in between he would scour the town for his entertainment.

He was getting better at finding her, or perhaps it was just coincidence, but he caught sight of her a bit more often than he did initially. She still stuck mainly to stealing food, though on one occasion he did spot her scuttling out of a thrift store with a bundle of fabric under he arm.

Like him, she was spontaneous and meticulous at the same time. She never targeted the same shop or stand twice within a short period of time, and would often appear across town elsewhere the day after simply so she didn't linger in one place for too long.

Whenever he spotted her, he would make an effort to follow her and remain undetected. Sometimes he'd get to observe her skills until she'd completed a theft and disappeared seemingly into thin air. And sometimes he'd lose her long before that.

He was still trying to figure out how someone as keen and perceptive as himself could possibly lose a target. It wasn't just her size or her skill, but something more.

He could have sworn that he recalled her left eye being the pink one and the right being brown, but every now and again when he glimpsed them, they appeared to have switched.

The girl was shrouded in mystery and illusion, there one second and gone in the blink of an eye. But he found her when he could, and when he found her, he observed.

And he could tell that the skill she'd perfected wasn't simply luck due to any lapse in perception on the part of the onlookers. He could only assume that was attributed to her semblance somehow, but she wasn't relying solely on that.

She only used it to get out of a pinch, when she already had the food in her hands and it was too late to retreat without touching it. The few times she was about to get caught, something always happened to make the storeowner or tattle-tail observant look the other way, or blink just long enough for her to slip away.

But those instances were few and far between, because she rarely ever got apprehended or anything close to it.

Even so, the smoothness of her craft wasn't solely because of illusion or anything of the sort. It was because the skill of deception was innate to her. She'd been practicing and perfecting it her entire life. She knew exactly when to move and how to move, how to keep herself just around the corner of everyone's eye, how to hide in the shadows and how to use her size to her advantage.

Her skill was unlike any he'd ever seen before, and he had to admit he was still interested. Even though he'd told himself he would not pursue her after he'd discovered the lack of fear in her eyes. She was simply too alluring. He wanted to know why she did what she did, why she didn't have any fear of it.

Of course he had to be careful as well. Not only did he need to take care not to be recognized by the commonfolk around town, but he needed to make absolutely certain to keep out of sight of the girl. They'd already made eye contact once, and he was certain she'd noticed him lurking a few more times than that. He needed to tread lightly, lest his constant presence spook her and drive her even further into the recesses of the city's core where even he might never be able to find her again.

He made her the center of his recreation, the hobby to enjoy when he was officially off-duty in other departments. Though he didn't know exactly where she retreated to at night, he knew which parts of town to find her in more frequently than others.

He saw a bit more of her as the weeks progressed. The summer heat was beginning to draw her out more in search of half-empty water bottles abandoned on park benches.

And it was rare that she change clothes, but it did happen. Once he saw her in a pale sand-colored dress, and another time it was sea-gray. Black clearly would have been her best option, but with the way the color attracted the sun she probably couldn't afford to risk overheating.

Before long she was back to white again, and that white was quickly stained by the city. But that ended up being the best camouflage of all.

Roman continued to look for her when he could, taking note of the places she'd stolen from and trying to predict where she might go next. Sometimes he was correct, but more often than not she surprised him.

It wasn't long before he realized there was only one place in all of Vale she had yet to target. A little ice cream shop squished between a thrift store and a studio that sold paintings was the only food place in Vale she had yet to exploit.

And he wondered when it would be, because with the summer haze coming in strong nowadays, it would be child's play for her to slip inside along with a sweaty lunchtime crowd to pluck a wrapped ice pop from the display case and slink back out.

He became so invested in her activities he even began betting with himself when and how she would rob her final ice cream store. Whenever he was in the area he kept an eye out for her as well, because he didn't want to miss observing her if he could help it.

The shop had large colorful posters of their ice cream flavors hanging in each window, chocolates and vanillas and fruit flavors and swirls, icings and whipped creams and cherries and sprinkles, smoothies and milkshakes and cones and ice pops. From a business standpoint, he gave them credit, especially now that summer was rolling in and no one in their right mind could pass up an enticing place like that to beat the heat.

One day he caught his little trick staring incredulously up at the poster of Neapolitan ice cream with its brown pink and white color scheme. She was only there for a second, before a family with two squealing children passed by and she scuttled away like a roach from sunlight.

She didn't steal from the shop that day, or the day after, but she continued to target the little food stands and convenience stores for half a croissant or a bag of chips.

But it was then she began to do something Roman hadn't ever seen her do before.

She began scavenging for lost change.

Of course in the past if she happened to spot a lonely coin on the sidewalk she would snatch it up, but now she actively started hunting for them.

She wasn't confident enough to steal money from shops, nor did she have the resources, so she dedicated herself to finding loose change.

In between her daily food stealings now, he often glimpsed her scooping low to grab a shiny circle. Knowing he wouldn't be able to leave her alone, Roman decided to join her game, if only to speed up her plan to see what she would do with the money whenever she'd determined she had enough.

So one day he placed himself along a sidewalk bustling with people, knowing that the large crowd would provide ample opportunity for lost treasures and draw her in. He let a large coin slip out of his pocket, one that was worth one fourth of a single lien bill. It was a strategic move on his part, as he made sure no one else would notice the motion of it falling and grab it before she could come along. He made his way to a bench and sat down within eyesight of the coin.

Then he waited.

His hat protected him from the beating sunlight, though he refused to remove the trench coat, which always earned him puzzled glances. He lit a cigar and opened a newspaper in his lap as cover, though he always kept one eye on his coin.

And it took her some time, but eventually he spotted that flash of brown and pink and white as she darted out during a break in the crowds. She went to grab the coin he'd dropped with such excitement that she scraped off one of her nails on the cement in the process, but she didn't even flinch. She simply clutched the coin tightly to her chest and hurried off back into the alley from whence she'd come.

He still didn't know why she suddenly had an interest in gathering money when he hadn't noticed her doing it in earlier weeks. He had to wonder what had come up, what she needed it for, why she was suddenly deciding to collect it now rather than continue stealing.

He doubted she thought she could gather enough coins to surmount to an amount significant enough to start turning her life around out of the blue, so the only other option he could think of was a ticket. Fair for a bus, an air ship, a train, something to get out of this town and into a new one.

But part of him also denied that could be the case. No thief as good as she was would be dumb enough to abandon the territory most familiar to them. Starting off somewhere new was dangerous this late in the game. It would be better for her to stay where she knew the escape routes and the terrain.

Of course he had no say in the matter and no idea what she was planning, but either way he couldn't deny he was actively trying to play a part in her life now. Whatever her intentions were, his little coin was going to help make it a reality.

So for the remainder of the sweltering summer week, he caught sight of her stealing food and picking up coins from his peripheral vision.

It was on the hottest day so far, one so hot that even he needed to remove his hat and unbutton his trench coat, that he discovered exactly what it was she'd been intending to do with the money.

Roman had taken a seat in a park gazebo for some shade, idly fanning himself with a newspaper and cursing the sun as he ran a hand back through his orange hair. Around him the park was full of children having water gun fights and running through sprinklers laughing. He couldn't help but envision his charge doing the same, wearing clean clothes, having fun, smiling...

As he let his gaze wander, it naturally drifted across the street to the ice cream shop with the posters. The line was out the door and halfway around the block, since it was the only joint this side of town selling the stuff.

Roman only stayed where he was for as long as he did to avoid moving back out into the direct sunlight, but in the end he was almost glad for his inactivity. Almost.

Because once the lunchtime crowd died down across the street, he noticed one of the shadows moving.

The girl with her alley-colored dress and her unkempt hair crept out into the light like a cat, constantly cautious and wary. Even from this distance he could tell she was looking down into her palm. He quickly realized she was looking at the coins she'd gathered over the past several days.

As he watched her rush in through the open door and into the empty ice cream shop, he understood.

Every crook, even he, had at least one establishment in their target town they would rather buy than steal from. Be it because the owner was a decent person, or because the product being sold was something important to them, or for another reason.

For Roman, if he ever dared to buy instead of rob, he'd do it from the cigar shop, because their rolls were genuine.

And for her, it seemed she wanted to have her legitimate purchase be a simple ice cream cone.

Roman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he peered across the street to observe. He could just barely see her hurry her way up to the counter where the shop owner, the only other person in the place, stared down at her.

He was a typical-looking guy, one Roman assumed would gladly give a scoop or two to a kid down on their luck, possibly even for free.

But he knew better than anyone that human beings - and most of the Faunus too - were all good-for-nothing pieces of shit.

The man behind the counter who had been smiling and serving customers all day long suddenly recoiled at the sight of the girl standing before him now. He grit his teeth and uttered what Roman could only assume to be a warning.

The girl quickly reached out and placed her money on the counter, moving her hands in sharp gesticulations. Roman couldn't interpret what she was saying, but he could see the man clearly. He leaned down over the counter and got in her face, no doubt growling at her to get lost.

But the girl persisted, pushing the coins closer to him before turning around to point at the poster in the window, the one of Neapolitan ice cream.

Roman knew she was getting anxious. She wanted to get in and get out before more people could show up, and every second she lingered there unnecessarily was another second someone could walk in and call the authorities on a street rat.

Roman watched with clenched fists and a tight jaw as the man picked up the coins from the counter and made a fist around them. He slowly made his way around the counter to the girl's side, towering a good three feet above her.

Roman tensed. Part of him wanted to believe the owner was going to cave and go fetch her an ice cream. But a bigger, darker, and much more realistic part of him knew it could never be that simple.

He watched from his safe spot as the shop keeper grabbed the girl by the collar of her dirty dress, which was likely the main reason he'd denied her patronage. It was such a fast and unexpected movement the girl had no time to blink, no time to play her little illusion tricks to make a narrow escape.

Roman stood up immediately, putting his hat back on and preparing to go across the street himself. He didn't mind violence amongst drunkards or between unfaithful spouses or angry mob bosses. But against a poor kid who was legitimately trying to pay for some ice cream? Unforgivable.

He watched as the man all but lifted the girl off her bare feet and brought her to the door. She was struggling, hands clawing at his arm to no avail, legs kicking weakly.

Roman was appalled that no one else seemed to be watching, that no one else was noticing this. Had he been an upstanding citizen himself instead of a crime boss, he would have spoken up and acted immediately. But some part of him was a coward too, and he knew there was nothing he could do.

So he watched as the man threw the poor girl out of the shop, following her with a loud curse. Her back slammed the cement sidewalk in a sickening display. She hit her head and curled up like a withering flower.

Roman could hear the man yelling even past the general din of the city.

"And don't you ever show your gritty little face around here again or I'm callin' the cops! Beat it!" He finished by hurling all of her hard-found coins down into her face, then whipped around and kicked the stand to the shop's door so it would close on her.

The ruckus had finally gained the attention of some passerby who paused to stare. As Roman rushed across the street in an effort to get to the girl, he heard the murmurings.

"That man just threw her out?"

"Of course he did. Look at her! She was probably trying to steal from him."

"She's a thief. Disgusting."

Roman grit his teeth around his cigar and reached up to pull it away from his mouth. He could barely see the girl anymore past the people going by, but he was able to glimpse her pushing herself up to her knees. She was holding her head and her side, her eyes wide with something he'd originally thought she wasn't capable of.

But he saw it in her now. Fear.

He could tell she was about to bolt.

He wanted to call out to her, tell her to stay put, but he realized that anyone shouting those things at her now would only make her run all the quicker.

And even though he didn't say anything to her, by the time he reached the ice cream shop she was gone. The only things left to indicate she'd even been there at all were the scattered coins.

But worst of all, he could make out streaks of red on the sidewalk, droplets that trailed off toward the alley and then disappeared.

And this time he was going to go after her. He was going to talk to her.

But before he'd taken even two steps to follow her, his pager went off. With a curse he answered, grunting confirmation to his business partner that he was heading to the designated place for their trade.

He hung up with a sigh, glancing back down into the deserted alley. He didn't know if she was still there or if she was long gone by now, but nonetheless he cleared his throat and called out the first words ever meant for her.

"I'll come back tomorrow. I promise."

Because he knew she'd seen him observing her.

Because he wanted to believe she knew he was on her side.

He waited for a moment, almost as if he expected some kind of response.

But there was nothing, only the eerie daytime silence of a sketchy alleyway. His pager buzzed again and he snorted.

As he turned away he dropped his cigar, still steaming, on the doorstep of the ice cream shop and spat on it.

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A/N: It's so odd for me to see only one line of dialogue in an entire chapter of mine. But I think it works well in this case, no?