09-10-2013, 02:30 AM
Yuri kept himself in the shadow of the alleyway as he watched the old woman walk by, pushing a stroller. Probably picking her granddaughter up while mommy worked the pole in some place around here. The woman had set her purse in the carrier beneath the handlebars. Perfect.
There wasn't anyone watching. So Yuri reached out with his power and with invisible hands of air just snatched the brown leather bag out of the stroller, dragging it across the street to the alleyway. The woman kept pushing the stroller down the street, unaware anything had happened.
He grabbed the purse and darted through the alley to the next street over, and rifled through it. Found a handfull of bills, no Wallet, a shame -- he knew a guy in the underground who could hack the things, and would usually give him some scratch for one, but nevermind that -- and some pills. Heart medication. Old bag probably needed them for emergencies. He might be able to score some cash with that. And cash was what he needed right now. He did pretty good as far as coming by it, but it was getting more expensive to keep his habit up.
The power pulsed within him. Fuck, yeah. Whatever it was, that raging storm that seared through him was more exhilarating than any drug he'd ever tried. He drew as much as he could hold -- a drop more and he'd lose that tenuous balance. But an addict who didn't have the skill to walk that fine line and push to the very edge of that cliff without falling over didn't stick around for long.
And now he could feel it ebbing in him. Yeah, his crank was wearing off. Fuck. If there was anything he hated more than anyone and anything that tried to put rules on him, it was being sober. Not only could he not sense the power when sober, but...damn, the world really sucked when he was out of his cloud.
Yuri slung the purse to the side of the alleyway -- nothing else in there he wanted -- and headed up the next street. Might as well go find a place to get a nice drink. He needed to find another good connect soon for some good blow or crank, ever since he'd decided to kill the last one rather than pay him what he owed. A shame the guy kept pushing the issue of payment. Dude should have known Yuri was good for it, he could always come by something. But whatever.
His stomach rumbled. Maybe something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea either.
There was a building up the street that looked like it had once been painted red. Now it was more like a patchwork flaky mess, chips and cracks all up the exterior. The open sign was on. Shithole like that shouldn't cost too much for a drink and a meal. Yuri made one more flow of air to brush off the dust and grime that might have gotten on him -- didn't want to look too much like trash from the underground -- and with regret released his hold on the power.
He walked across the street to the door and opened it. It creaked with great noise of a rusty hinge that hadn't seen oil since it was mounted. Then he crossed the threshold. It was not what Yuri had expected from the exterior. Polished hardwood floors shone with fresh varnish. Clean walls -- yeah it wasn't real marble but it was bright and fresh paint. There might be some money to this place, which meant an opportunity.
There wasn't a greeter nearby, so Yuri took his own seat, a little twin table by the far wall near the door. That way he could see everything that happened from his vantage point. And split if he saw the opportunity to. A server eventually came by and brought a menu, and by that time Yuri was already feeling that itching that came upon him when he'd gone too long without any kind of fix. He rubbed his eyes and snatched the menu from her.
"Vodka,"
he said to her. He dug in his pocket and fished out one of the bills he'd taken from the old lady's purse. "Whatever that'll buy from the well."
The woman gave him a harsh glance and a sniff that implied she wasn't particularly happy with his tone. Yeah, well fuck her too. He paid for it. As long as she brought back his drink.
Yuri glanced over the menu while waiting for the serving girl to bring back his drink. The Shchi sounded good. Beef stewed with cabbage and sauerkraut, some onion and carrots thrown in the mix. Rye bread on the side. That was a good place to start. Seeing as he hadn't bothered to eat in the past two days, he might as well get his fill here for the next couple. Having paid for his drink up front, the server wouldn't think he'd be one to skip out on his tab if it came to it.
The server came back with an unlabled bottle and a glass with ice. She deposited them on the table with little fanfare. Good. Yuri had thought he'd given her enough for a bottle. "Would you care to order?" she asked.
"Bring me the Shchi with rye bread to start,"
he replied, pushing the glass away and grabbing the bottle. The waitress left and he twisted off the top and took a long pull. Distilled from grain, and not well refined, it was tasteless and harsh. Still it got the job done.
He scoped out the room and drank from the bottle while he waited for his food to arrive. A couple pairs of customers across the main floor, not terribly busy at this time of day. Easy to make a score on a place like this when there weren't many witnesses. But also it was unlikely there would be much in the way of sales in the front register. Any real score would be in the back, wherever the management kept their operating cash for the day -- and if they were lazy about making deposits some accumulated sales.
Still, the front register would hold something. Get a little but risk a little. Not much work to it, just something up Yuri's alley.
The server returned with the shchi. Hot and steaming, the hearty smell of beef mixed with pungent aroma of stewed cabbage. Good stuff. Yuri waved her off and broke off a chunk of rye bread, dipped it in the broth and bit into it. Yeah, these cooks knew their food. It was certainly the best thing he'd eaten in awhile. Probably the only decently-cooked thing he'd had in awhile. He continued to pull on his bottle of vodka and ate.
There wasn't anyone watching. So Yuri reached out with his power and with invisible hands of air just snatched the brown leather bag out of the stroller, dragging it across the street to the alleyway. The woman kept pushing the stroller down the street, unaware anything had happened.
He grabbed the purse and darted through the alley to the next street over, and rifled through it. Found a handfull of bills, no Wallet, a shame -- he knew a guy in the underground who could hack the things, and would usually give him some scratch for one, but nevermind that -- and some pills. Heart medication. Old bag probably needed them for emergencies. He might be able to score some cash with that. And cash was what he needed right now. He did pretty good as far as coming by it, but it was getting more expensive to keep his habit up.
The power pulsed within him. Fuck, yeah. Whatever it was, that raging storm that seared through him was more exhilarating than any drug he'd ever tried. He drew as much as he could hold -- a drop more and he'd lose that tenuous balance. But an addict who didn't have the skill to walk that fine line and push to the very edge of that cliff without falling over didn't stick around for long.
And now he could feel it ebbing in him. Yeah, his crank was wearing off. Fuck. If there was anything he hated more than anyone and anything that tried to put rules on him, it was being sober. Not only could he not sense the power when sober, but...damn, the world really sucked when he was out of his cloud.
Yuri slung the purse to the side of the alleyway -- nothing else in there he wanted -- and headed up the next street. Might as well go find a place to get a nice drink. He needed to find another good connect soon for some good blow or crank, ever since he'd decided to kill the last one rather than pay him what he owed. A shame the guy kept pushing the issue of payment. Dude should have known Yuri was good for it, he could always come by something. But whatever.
His stomach rumbled. Maybe something to eat wouldn't be a bad idea either.
There was a building up the street that looked like it had once been painted red. Now it was more like a patchwork flaky mess, chips and cracks all up the exterior. The open sign was on. Shithole like that shouldn't cost too much for a drink and a meal. Yuri made one more flow of air to brush off the dust and grime that might have gotten on him -- didn't want to look too much like trash from the underground -- and with regret released his hold on the power.
He walked across the street to the door and opened it. It creaked with great noise of a rusty hinge that hadn't seen oil since it was mounted. Then he crossed the threshold. It was not what Yuri had expected from the exterior. Polished hardwood floors shone with fresh varnish. Clean walls -- yeah it wasn't real marble but it was bright and fresh paint. There might be some money to this place, which meant an opportunity.
There wasn't a greeter nearby, so Yuri took his own seat, a little twin table by the far wall near the door. That way he could see everything that happened from his vantage point. And split if he saw the opportunity to. A server eventually came by and brought a menu, and by that time Yuri was already feeling that itching that came upon him when he'd gone too long without any kind of fix. He rubbed his eyes and snatched the menu from her.
"Vodka,"
he said to her. He dug in his pocket and fished out one of the bills he'd taken from the old lady's purse. "Whatever that'll buy from the well."
The woman gave him a harsh glance and a sniff that implied she wasn't particularly happy with his tone. Yeah, well fuck her too. He paid for it. As long as she brought back his drink.
Yuri glanced over the menu while waiting for the serving girl to bring back his drink. The Shchi sounded good. Beef stewed with cabbage and sauerkraut, some onion and carrots thrown in the mix. Rye bread on the side. That was a good place to start. Seeing as he hadn't bothered to eat in the past two days, he might as well get his fill here for the next couple. Having paid for his drink up front, the server wouldn't think he'd be one to skip out on his tab if it came to it.
The server came back with an unlabled bottle and a glass with ice. She deposited them on the table with little fanfare. Good. Yuri had thought he'd given her enough for a bottle. "Would you care to order?" she asked.
"Bring me the Shchi with rye bread to start,"
he replied, pushing the glass away and grabbing the bottle. The waitress left and he twisted off the top and took a long pull. Distilled from grain, and not well refined, it was tasteless and harsh. Still it got the job done.
He scoped out the room and drank from the bottle while he waited for his food to arrive. A couple pairs of customers across the main floor, not terribly busy at this time of day. Easy to make a score on a place like this when there weren't many witnesses. But also it was unlikely there would be much in the way of sales in the front register. Any real score would be in the back, wherever the management kept their operating cash for the day -- and if they were lazy about making deposits some accumulated sales.
Still, the front register would hold something. Get a little but risk a little. Not much work to it, just something up Yuri's alley.
The server returned with the shchi. Hot and steaming, the hearty smell of beef mixed with pungent aroma of stewed cabbage. Good stuff. Yuri waved her off and broke off a chunk of rye bread, dipped it in the broth and bit into it. Yeah, these cooks knew their food. It was certainly the best thing he'd eaten in awhile. Probably the only decently-cooked thing he'd had in awhile. He continued to pull on his bottle of vodka and ate.