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Oliver Kanto.
21.
Currently living on the streets.
Witty, charming, and absurdly sarcastic.
Expert pick-pocket.


Emma Dalish.
19.
Servant to Highlord Master.
Very nimble, quiet, and shy.
Long and dark history.

(Emma's master can either be a NPC, or actual character. If someone is game to play the master role, I'll roll with it.)

Oliver sighed as he kicked a small pile of snow out of his path. He looked up to the sound of a few girls giggling and waving at the sight of him. He smiled, winking as he did so. They approached him and began flirting with him. After a few minutes, he walked away, denying offers to keep in contact with them. After a few more steps away, he yanked the small coin purses he had snatched from them. He smiled, stuffing the purses back into his ratty pocket.


Emma quietly walked through the long dark hallway. The sounds of her tight, black shoes clanked loudly against the hardwood floor. She scanned the hallway doors until she found her master's room. Though her shoes previously had held a reassuring noise, she entered the room as silent as a mouse. She bowed almost immediately after entering. "You called, my master?"

(Perfect. The way I had pictured the master's personality matches yours almost to the spot. Awesome job, Panther. biggrin )
(Edit: Also, I was going over some of our other RP's we had going. I was slightly curious. If you have time to go over and reread to get the idea flowing again, I'd like to pick back up on a Middle Earth adventure if you're game.)

Oliver continued trotting down the road, snatching a few parcels and purses as he did so. He glanced around and checked his total, roughly having a couple hundred dollars in all. It was a slow night, but it would still get him something to eat. He slithered around a few more corners before spotting one of his favorite Italian restaraunts. He stepped to go towards it before spotting a young looking girl heading in the opposite direction. He backtracked a bit, and slid along side her. This'll be an easy con. he thought to himself. He crooked his had to the side, and blew his bangs from his eyes. "H-hey there." he half smiled, his stutter perfect sounding. "I'm Anthony. You new in town or a local?"



"As you wish, my master." She carefully grabbed the tray, her skillfull hands practiced by the repetitve motion. "Anything else, my master?"

He smiled, purposefully cheesy for the part, sensing the lie in her name, but humored in the the thought of a fellow con-artist. "To what cause w-would I be donating to?"



"Of course, my master." she bowed, quickly spinning around. She returned the tray to the cook swiftly, making no eye contact with anyone. It was her eyes that scared most, the dark gray, lifeless ones she disgracefully wore. From where she was first forced into her servant-ship, she learned that it was a disgrace to hold the same eye color as your master. It showed sign of equality and neutrality, which could never be so. Of course, when she was sold to this master, that fact was not mentioned, for his eyes were covered from sight.

Oliver chuckled, the irony of donating to others seemed entirely opposite to what he would normally concur. He spun around her clumsily, distracting her to look at his face. He dug his foot under the suitcase, oblivious to her as he continued to speak, charming her now. A small knife that he had inlaced on the bottom of his shoe sliced a hole into the luggage. He felt the bills sliding out onto the snow and onto his shoe. He leaned down, pretending to fix his shoe, using his jacket as a cover, and stealthily stuffed what he could into his shoe. He stood up, and smiled. "I'm sorry, I just realized I left the kettle running. Best be off!" he spun around, heading in the opposite direction.



Emma spinned almost immediately as the intercom finished blaring her master's request. She spun to the library, retrieving the books her master requested. She retrieved two more pens and a phone, and retraced her steps back to her master's room. As she entered, she gracefully set all the collected items onto his desk. "As you requested, my master."

Oliver smiled, and the grin stayed as he spoke. "So you aren't as dimwitted as you look. That's good. You'll need that out here if you're going to survive. Likewise, I'm not one to toil with." He removed his shoe and dumped it out on the ground, the bills all fluttering to the ground. "Be it best known that you be careful on who you con. Some folks aren't all what they seem." He tipped his hat slightly, and turned around once more, the gun she still held not once phasing him.



Emma kept her eyes on the ground. "Permission to momentarily speak freely, my master?" she spoke quietly, almost as a frightened, yet calm whisper.

Oliver waited until they were a long distance away to pull out the small necklace he had retrieved from her side pocket. He fingered and toyed with it, curious of how long it would take for her to notice it was misplaced, if she even did. He stuffed it back into his pocket, intending on pawning it off after a day or so of purse-collecting. He made his way to another resteraunt, ready to spend his collected money.



"I am not ashamed of my eye color. It was my father's, and I will wear them proudly." though the statement seemed bold, it was spoke in such a monotone and quiet way, it was almost too perfect sounding to be coming from someone with the title of servant. "I mean no ill offense to you by this mannerism, my master. If I do offend, please, I pray thee forgive me, my master."