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Camphoreon was indeed the ideal roost for a thief, and few knew that better than Bouquet. The former serial jewel thief, however, had found a new calling in life - or, perhaps it was merely a different language in which she was called to the same destination. Though Aila had long cast off her stage name, she still found herself frequenting Camphoreon, if only to taste the beverages of her favorite cafes and read the paranoid news articles that cropped up whenever some heist or another occurred.

Her goal for the day, though, was something completely different: a dress, an article of clothing her mother had warned her that every woman was expected to possess. As she proceeded towards a shop that would sell such a gown, she found herself distracted by a dark blur darting into the path of a ponyta-driven delivery vehicle. Her brow furrowed as the creature - a strangely-colored Eevee - went limp and the passerby swelled in concern. But Eevees were swift, she mused. Had it been in danger, it would have dodged. Besides that, it ran right into the horse pokemon's path. There was something distinctly wrong with the whole situation. Aila scrutinized the crowd carefully and noticed a man who took more interest in the gathering than in the scene to which they had gathered.

Ah, she concluded. A pickpocket. She turned her attention back to the Eevee, which stood, shook itself, and took off into an alley. She looked back towards the crowd and found that the man had disappeared as well. Curious, she proceeded into the alley herself, where she proceeded to witness the suspected pickpocket congratulating an Eevee on a job well done. She hid herself in the shadows, following only once she was certain he was no longer keeping an eye out for one such pursuer. With cat-like footsteps befitting the role of a successful jewel thief she had once played, she appeared at his side.

"You've made this place your haunt, have you? Or perhaps you've been driven to desperation?"

"You don't have to be so nervous," Aila said, a hand finding its way to her hip and a sly smile blooming on her lips. "It's not as though I plan to call for the authorities. Not that they would catch you even if I did, the half-witted fools that they are." He certainly was laying it on thick, though, wasn't he? If she hadn't seen all of the clues that incriminated him, she might have even begun to doubt his guilt. She ignored his verbal dodges and lowered her voice to guard her words from prying ears, "Aren't you too skilled for something as base as pick-pocketing? This city is home to a bounty of opportunities, after all." Such as the jewels, she mentally supplemented.

"I might have an offer, as an individual who spent her whole life in this place and knows its nuances better than anyone else," she gestured to the city around them with the whole of her arms. Her tone sank even more yet. "Easy targets, gathering points, escape routes..." She folded her arms loosely across her chest, slight smirk still in place. "Someone of your merit surely knows how much this information is worth, especially after such a clumsy getaway."

"Quick, yes. But transparent enough. Among all the people there, I'm sure I'm not the only one who saw which way the Eevee went. You should be grateful that I'm the one that followed, rather than, say... an off-duty officer." She had recognized one of those amidst the crowd, actually. Not a high-ranking fellow, but he'd been called on her tail a few times.

"Hmm..." She folded her arms behind her back now and considered his question. "To be honest, I could care less for benefiting myself from this whole encounter, no matter the worth of the information. My reconnaissance skills are my pride, though, and I refuse to see off the fruits of my labor into the hands of a man who has no greater ambition than snatching loose bills from slack-jawed onlookers." Camphoreon, Aila believe, still very much belonged to her. Divulging her knowledge of its innermost workings was like giving away the key to the city, and she wouldn't do so for any random stranger.

"The English language just teems with such easily misconstrued words, does it not?" She caught herself as she slipped back into her normal habit of speech and returned to the painstakingly perfected vernacular she had left the base to practice. Her smile became almost acrid, "Yes, and let's continue to avoid being too personal, shall we? Some of us aren't as easy to flattery as others."

Why had she approached this thief, she wondered. Was it only to rub into his face the imperfections of his crime? To assert her own superiority? If one were to speak of silly ambitions, such would suffice as prime examples. As she evaluated the situation, however, her own wishes came to light, and she was able to explain in earnest.

"I might be after a thrill," she said. "I might not have much opportunity to do my favorite things nowadays, and I might want a challenge." And, she considered, it might behoove her to see if she couldn't return to headquarters with that Eevee in tow.

"Breathing's like that. You're the best in the world for the longest time and then, suddenly, you just can't seem to do it anymore." Her accompanying expression seemed to hint at a warning.

Aila just barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the man's sarcastic concession of belief. Usually she wouldn't bother resorting to such idle nonsense, but she had learned in her race against Liam that thieving was more fun with a partner in tow. She closed the distance between them a step, resting her weight on that slightly forward foot. "You may call me Christelle," she said, using her middle name - her mother's name - to refer to herself. "Yourself?"

Aila shrugged inwardly. Sometimes it was worthwhile to believe oneself invincible - it was impossible for a thief to gain a profit without a risk, and, more often than not, a greater danger would yield a greater reward. Caution and moderation, however, were equally important, if not more so.

John, was it? An obvious enough lie, but she could scarcely blame him. What thief relinquishes their real name to a veritable stranger? But for the time that they were in one another's company, he would be John and she would be Christelle. Such was life. His question brought something of an incredulous expression to her face. Fiddles?

"I've heard of them," she responded flatly, if not a bit sarcastically.