The auction house was uncomfortably warm, and the number of bodies in the room made it feel stuffy. Towards the back of the room, staff members were struggling to get the air conditioning unit to work, while Evelyn sighed and delicately pushed her hair from her face. Jensen was besides himself lately, with the incident at the park and then the eventual kidnapping making him more than concerned for her safety, but they always knew this point would come. She was an adult, and while her parents wanted to keep an eye on her and know she was safe, the more they tried to rein her in, the more she would try to pull away.

This auction was supposed to be an escape; a night out on the town to appease Jensen, and perhaps get a nice deal. While she rarely displayed the amount of money she had, at the auction, the occasional piece could make her surrender and use her family wealth. This week, a beautiful desk was up for auction, with an extending work bench, glossy finish and elegant carving. It was solid, durable, and would be lovely in a workroom. The style was rococo, with elaborate swirls and bends, a light mother of purl inlay in some of the etchings. The wood was aspen, with dark veins running down the legs, and great attention had been given to make sure the veins flowed with the planes of the desk. It was handmade, so much nicer than any manufactured piece. She wanted it, but doubted it would be cheep.

As she moved closer to examine the piece, her echoes had hardly started to function when someone bumped into her shoulder and she gave a quick glance to see who had run into her. Images of art history vanished from her mind as her gaze sharped on the figure of a man instead.

As a professional con artist, David found himself frequently being at social functions that would be considered outside of the norm of one of his birth. He'd gone to gallery openings, fashion shows, boat shows, and parties for some label or another that he had no interest in. The point was to mingle with those who had money, see who he could get to trust him, who was worth the effort, how to impress pigeons. The best events were ones where people were already letting the strings on their purse loosen. Charity events handed out fine champagne as though it was common water. Horse races provided a distraction. And auctions? Well, those were his favorite, provided he wasn't the thing for people to bid on. You didn't have to bid to participate, simply show up and observe. Even with silent auctions you could get a sense of who held how much if you kept your eyes open.

There were some smaller items that David had put a bid or two on, not caring particularly that he had not won anything yet. Given that he had no automobile, anything that David bid on would have to be small enough that he could carry it in his pockets, or maybe, at most, tucked under one arm. Large furniture pieces were out of the question, but they represented most of the lots and were demanding the most attention.

His had been upon a bloke he was chatting with, discussing some of the earlier lots that had gone for a high price. Just casual conversation really, nothing that was of any use to him for a con. Between the cramped space and the broken air conditioning you could easily develop a sense of claustrophobia. In spite of this though, David's tie had remained straightened and close to his throat. Underneath his suit jacket his shirt was clinging to his back with perspiration. If only they could get the machine repaired, or at the very least, crack open a door to try and get some air flow going. Tempers could build faster in a hot box like this than spiders weaving a nest, and the easiest way to keep people from noticing how annoyed they were, was to distract them with petty chat.

Further evidence that there were entirely too many people present was a sudden bump against him. He had only taken half a step back and collided with someone. Her hair was so light and blonde that it almost seemed to glow. Though she hadn't been throwing her money about like others, but David would bet that she was of wealth. You don't get to be that pale and perfect without being sheltered. Hell, even with the British blood in him, David was more tan, and he turned into a brilliant scarlet with the sun. “Right then.” It wasn't a question, checking to see if she was ok. Just another one of those moments where two nations were separated by a common tongue.

Evelyn blinked at the words that slipped from the strangers mouth. Her brain processed them, sifted through the dialect, and came up with little meaning to what he was saying. Was he asking if she was alright? Was that an apology, what was that? The gears in her head slipped for a moment and she pushed her hair from her face. "Pardon me. Was just getting a closer look before the next round of bidding but it's getting a bit crowded to really manage that..." She remarked with a small frown, avoiding looking ignorant and remarking on what he said. She glanced wistfully towards the air conditioning unit, then back to the desk. In a short while they would have to return to their seats and the final round of bidding would commence, but if the staff was preoccupied with their broken machinery much longer that wait could be indefinite.

Taking the moment, she took a closer look at the man. He was young, slim and slightly tan, probably in his late twenties to early thirties. There was a small scar on his right eyebrow, and there was a chain around his neck, however she couldn't tell what was on it. During the auction he had participated a bit, but not in the way many of the patrons were throwing their money around. She scanned her brain for memories of what he had done earlier in the auction, and much of the actions she came across were polite conversation and casual behavior. Either he was just here for the social venture, or he was trying to stay under some sort of radar. she had met enough people recently to avoid discounting the possibility of either.

[British dialect, Yorkshire variant. ] Her echoes pieced together from the short moments of conversation she had heard, and his current comment. This time, she was grateful for the information: that connection would have eluded her at first, yet enough time at social gatherings had helped her get to know the accents of several different regions. "Yorkshire. Your accent, is it not?' She remarked, deciding to test the accuracy of the mental twittering she had heard. Her eyes were a pale grey as she watched and listened for his answer.

The fedora had been left at home, not being suited for an auction as polished as this. Given how crowded the auction house ended up being, along with the issues of cooling, it was turning out to be a better choice more and more as the night went on. Still, David believed in acting as a gentleman and stepped aside slightly so that the lass he had bumped into could get a better look at the desk that he had been tempted to rest a hand against. Further more he offered her his sheet of paper that the auction's lot list had been printed on. Needing a bit of air earlier on, and without his trusted hat, he had had to improvise, and had made a fan like a bored child at church would. “I believe if anyone should be saying pardon me, it would be me. After all, I was the one who had moved.”

He may be pursuing the interest of a certain lady who lived one floor down from him, but David couldn't help but chat up a girl, especially if she was attractive and was such a light blonde. This girl was checking him out, and it was inflating his probably already oversized ego. “You're right, it's Yorkshire like meself.” it was refreshing for a change to have someone get his accent correct, “First to do so as well. I've been asked if it's Cockney, been asked if I'm a Limey, and 'eard Lanc too many times.” That last one drew out a look of distaste from him. His family might not have had a telly, but that didn't mean that he wasn't loyal to his teams for football or cricket. “Question is can you peg which part of Yorkshire.”

David laughed. It was common knowledge in his neck of the woods that you could take someone from Leeds, put them next to someone from the moors and they would sound almost as if they were speaking two different languages. Thanks to his brother's auto repair shop, and some time spent in London, David's accent had softened somewhat, but by no means did he sound American. “Caution with that one. Now, me Da taught me it's not polite to chat with a lady until you have given her your name. Mine is Maxwell, but me Christian name is David.” No hand was offered to shake, and it stayed firmly planted at his side.

The stranger was polite enough to step to the side and let Evelyn view the desk closer, and she politely decline the paper he held out with the lot list. She wasn't interested in much beyond the desk, and with the air feeling as stifling as it was, she was heavily considering sneaking out after the desk went to preserve her sanity if nothing more. The more she considered it, however, the more she realized escape would be unlikely. Jensen had already notified the auctioneers that she should not leave the premises without an escort, and that meant either himself or one of the security guards they had posted. Heck, at this point she was tempted to bribe the limo driver to get her out of here. Or a random stranger.

A random stranger was looking more likely.

"I think it's difficult for anyone to move without colliding with someone or something. Apologizes are on the rise this evening, unfortunately." She said in casual conversation. As he responded to her remark on his accent, she saw a slightly pleased look cross his face. It was harder to pinpoint someone's accent, but she enjoyed the challenge of it, and was delighted to be right.

She couldn't resist the slight smile at his comment about 'Lanc'. "Enough social events and you learn to at least make the distinction between a Lancshire and a Yorkshire accent. Which part... that is a bit more difficult for me, I'll admit." She let her echoes sort out the verbal clues and she considered it for a moment, and compared them to a few individuals she had met in the past. Thankfully, she never forgot people, so the distinct speech patterns still stood out. After mentally replaying the sounds in her head, she responded. "It's a pleasure to meet you David. As for your question, I'd have to say West Yorkshire." She gave the answer with finality, deciding whether she was right or wrong was of no consequence, except for her ego. She leaned closer to the desk, studying the carvings and waiting for his reaction. If she offended him, then this evening would just be that much duller. But if she managed to impress him that could at least give time for a bit more conversation. Maybe he could even help her get out of this stuffy room...

She had refused the offer of the paper fan, so David used it for himself a little bit. Maybe she hadn't been suffering from the heat as much as he was, after all, a lady at an auction isn't expected to wear a jacket. Her dress looked like it would be breezy, and it didn't cover half as much as Sledge's shirt did. He was use to the cold. It was easier to get warmer than it was to get cooler. Summers to him always meant sweltering heat and a swampy humidity. On the whole, it was better to have the high heat, high humidity mix, for him at least, than to have a cold and wet winter's day. Didn't mean that he had to enjoy this claustrophobic warmth. “Temperature as well. Good to see that people are still being so cordial though.”

The pigeon, though with how lovely she was, David couldn't help but think of that term as yet another type of bird, had managed to get that he was from West Yorkshire. Impressive, but she could have impressed him more. “Well you got 'alf of it right. Problem is that you take two people from the West Yorkshire area and they can sound like their from entirely different countries almost.” He laughed, a warm and inviting sound that caused a few heads to turn his way. Desk usually weren't considered humorous. “Still, you managed to get that much so far. As I said earlier, people have just been making assumptions that all British accents are the same.”

David rested his hand lightly on the desk, feeling the texture of the wood. It was too large an item for him to bid on, but that didn't mean he couldn't respect the quality of it. A lot of time had gone into the creation of the desk. Whoever ended up with this was bound to be of wealth. Furniture pieces seemed to always sell well at auction houses. People always thought that maybe they had stumbled across a hidden treasure, an antique that others may have overlooked. And while that did happen, and this desk wasn't of poor quality, there was an overwhelming amount of pieces of wood that were simply just old. “Bit too classical for me.”

Evelyn gave a slight smile, the expression a bit on the rueful side though. While the comment was said in passing, something about it made her feel inclined to respond. "Oh, I find the auction typically stays cordial, at least in appearance. Maybe even a bit too cordial...." She unwillingly shot a glance in the direction of her handler. His eyes hadn't left her since she came to gaze at the piece of furniture, and should she make one move for the door, he would be certain to follow. There had to be a way to sneak out of here once her desk was bought. Glancing back as he responded to her guess, she gave a casual shrug. As quick as she could be at times, spending most her life in the city could only expand her knowledge of accents so far.

"While I can hear a difference, I admit I don't come across many willing to teach me which is which. And I shy away from guessing. I like the sense of confidence that comes when one knows." She watched as he examined the desk, and heard the shuffle of feet as the Auctioneers finished with the air conditioning unit. Cold air slowly drifted through the auction house, and it sent little goosebumps up her arms. She didn't quite feel cold, but the breeze did have a slight nip, which would be welcome to most. Thankfully, the desk would be one of the first to go off in the next round of bids.

"I think it would look lovely in my studio. Sadly it's been one of the few interesting items for me this evening." There was the gradual movement as people headed towards the seating area for the bidding to commence. She glanced at the stranger, curious of where he would go. Something about the disapproving look on Jensen's face made her tempted to try and keep the man around a short while more.

More laughter from the British bloke. "Oh there is blood in being cordial. Trust me, I'm British. We know how to be dangerously polite." David was trying to be witty and win Pigeon over. She was young, attractive, and of considerable wealth, and it was hard to distinguish which one of these features was catching his eye the most. Probably the wealth. His eyes lit up with mischief as he noticed that they were being watched. David waved a little to the one watching his Pigeon. Give the bloke something to ponder about.

"I find it hard to believe that you don't go around guessing," he said, grateful for the tiny puff of coolness that managed to snake its way up his jacket's sleeves. "You wouldn't be here iffin you didn't. An auction is just guessing. You try to guess what the worth is of what you want, how little to start off on, who could outbid you. It's all just a game of chance."

So she had a studio. Could mean either some sort of productive studio, like an art one, or, given that she was looking at an antique desk, a studio apartment. Either one spoke of more space than what he had in his flat. "Something like this would look lovely anywhere I'm sure. But best to not let your interest show too much. People will just try to bid you up on it. Keep your cards close to your chest." Now who was that man that had looked at him like he was up to no good? Alright, so Davide was thinking that Pidge could make a good mark in the future, but as of the moment he hadn't even established who she was. For all the bloke knew, David could just be another one of New York City's high society folks, looking for a way to past a night in wealth.

The slight twinkle that flickered past David’s face would be missed by most, but Evelyn’s echoes caught it like an electric signal. The mischievous glint, the curiosity and interest; they tried to process everything so subtly hidden in that face. She kept her face composed, however, as her mind took the signs for caution. Something about this charming stranger put her ill at ease. [Shows familiarity with auction house, yet slight pauses when crowds move and lack of relationship with other patrons show it is not a common haunt. Mingles with those of wealth, shows more attention to the upper class, interest peaks at mention of studio. Behavior reflective of that of a thief.]

That was always a risky set of echoes to get. Last time she accused someone of being a thief, it turned out they were merely trying to touch some of the dinosaur fossils. It had been a fair assessment, but it would be dangerous to accuse someone here at the auction house. So, that left plan B: caution. She would let the bidding commence, and then at the end, she would try something new. She wanted to get out of the auction house, after all. Perhaps she could just...convince her new companion to escort her out so she wouldn't give him away.

It seemed like a great plan.

"See, most people think an auction is a guess. But you can tell by a person's behavior just how interested they are in a piece. Someone who walks quickly past is less enticed them someone who stops to gaze, and lesser still than someone who stops to touch a piece or pick it up. When bidding, a patron will reach for their number when an item they want is coming up, they'll straighten their posture when they're preparing to bid, and their focus will increase depending on the intensity of their interest. You can tell from a glance at a crowd the general price range an item may go to, and act accordingly." She gave a sticky sweet smile as he mentioned someone trying to outbid her.

"I find no trouble with people trying to outbid me. I've no shame in dropping an item on someone who is trying to take my money, and buying it from them when they cannot afford it. I also have no shame in using the money I have to get what I want. The thing about the auction is it's only risky when you have something to loose." There was a flash through her eyes that was challenging, and she turned to the front as the auctioneer moved up to his podium. Within a few moments, they had reached the desk, and she was just as calm and collected as she had been gazing at it early. When the bidding started, she calmly raised her hand and bid, and few people dared to even try for it. The regular's knew better.

If she wanted the desk, it was best to let her have it.

Pidge knew a thing or too about observing people, which should have made David worried, or at the least concerned. However, he had been doing that same sort of thing for most of his life. Just meant that he had to be careful with what he said and did. He was impressed by her observations on the way of the auction. "I would have to disagree. People will also look over the items that they want the most, or talk down an item, or talk up something to get you to want it more."

David's business depended upon his ability to predict his mark's behavior. For the most part people were pretty predictable. They always wanted more. Even those who said they were content in life could be persuaded that they didn't have all that they needed. It wasn't enough to predict how someone would act or react. You had to look at what could possibly go wrong. That phrase expect the unexpected was the perfect credo to follow when you make a living off the expenses of others.

Bidding began again, and David kept close to Pidge. There were plenty of wealthy men and women at the auction, and plenty of lovely women to chat up. It was fun though to stay close to her and bother her escort that night. David wasn't what people would conventionally call handsome, but that didn't stop him from winning over a few ladies. Those Yank girls loved an accent, and the British accent seemed to score high. So he might not be on the cover of any romance novel, but David knew he could get under the skin of a bloke by chatting up their lady.

The bidding started, and again David would occasionally throw out a bid on the smaller items, until, at last, the desk was on the stand. "Tell me, how does your opinions of auctions handle phones?" he asked Pidge, nudging her gently with his elbow. Across the room several of the auction house employees were holding phones to their ears. "They might not be so easy to trick. Not as though they can see what you're doing. Obviously they want it enough to bother calling, and the auction will wait a little for them."

Evelyn gave a light shrug of her shoulders at his commentary, and gave a small nod of her head. "True, a person may talk down an item, or talk up it, but I've found the manner which they does it also says something about their level of interest. Someone who examines something carefully---say, an antique lamp---then later dismisses it, there is a genuine manner of dismissing, in which the brow will furrow, the face will look troubled, the eyes will darken, or there is the interest which will show through---a slight glimmer in the eyes, a curve in the mouth bordering on a smile, a shift or lean towards the item...what a person does is as important as what they say. Every poker face has it's gives and tells. Watching people you just have to learn what they are." She remarked with a light smile.

Meanwhile, towards the back Jensen was keeping a sharp eye on her companion. He didn't need to get his suit all in a bunch. She wasn't going to try anything...yet.

As the phone bidders arrived, Evelyn chuckled lightly at his question. "The tell of a phone bidder will actually be the person holding a phone. They know what the individual wants to bid up to, and sometimes they'll go beyond, but you can watch the facial expressions to judge how far or how close they are. They may not be as easy to trick, but you can still read them. You just have to watch."[/b][/color] She casually raised her hand for one of the bids on the desk, a slight look of disinterest on her face. She gave a shrug towards her companion.

Right after Evelyn made her latest bid on the desk, David raised his hand, making his own bid on a desk that he had no interest in owning. If asked why he had done so the best that he would be able to offer was a shrug of the shoulders. Sometimes you just had to do things on an impulse. Besides, David got his biggest thrills when he was simply making things up as he went along. "A tell is only good to you so long as the other person holding the cards is unaware they have one. Once they know that it's there they can use it against you."

Another bid was placed by a phone in, thus making it so that David no longer held the highest price. Pidge thought that the one who held the receiver could inform you on how the bidding would go. "One problem though. See the uniform? They don't work for whoever called in. Like the auctioner they want as much money as possible with each bid. You should know that an auction house gets paid commission for every dollar raised. The higher the final bid, the more money they make on their return. It's why you'll notice that other uniformed workers are going about this crowd. It is their function to make people ignore warning bells."

Speaking of warning bells, David's head was giving him one. Pidge's escort was watching him sharply, and David was not a fan of people taking notice of him. Relax, he told himself as he slid a hand into his pocket. The motion allowed yet another puff of cool air to sneak into his suit coat, bringing relief to his hot back. Tonight you aren't working. You're here for fun. There's nothing worth lifting on any person. Not with this many eyes and security in place. You've all the time in the world to go after any fool tonight. Just enjoy the cash flow.

While many people would be annoyed to be bid up, Evelyn felt a small smile curl across her face. She didn't seem taken aback by it really. In fact, she probably would have been disappointed if he had acted in any other way. She was all but telling him what she planned on doing. But she did still have a few cards, and she had every intention of using them. "Fair point. However, you are under the assumption that your own cards are well guarded. Sometimes, in the effort to read someone else, you give away yourself."

Letting her hand raise once more, the bidding continued to climb higher. She wasn't concerned quite yet. In fact, she was just starting to have fun. "As for the individuals holding the phone, working for the auction house doesn't mean they are immune to giving away facial expressions. The slight difference between a having a bidder on the other end who is willing to go higher verses one whose giving up will show through on face. It's just like reading anyone. Although, I guess a phone bidder wouldn't necessarily be your sort of mark." The word was dropped in casually as she countered the phone bidders raise. Out of the corner of her eye, she waited for a flicker to pass her companions face. A look of concern could tell her she was right. The rest would just be clues to head her in that direction.

Her echoes were somewhat active, both keeping an eye on the other bidders and her companion. Her eyes, which were icy blue, had slowly started to melt towards a colorless gray. Neither color was really inviting when they turned towards you backed by a cold expression.

“I can see what your tell is,” David said, glancing behind him at the man who had started to look like he wanted to stuff the Brit into a small cupboard. Alright he had been staying close to Pidge, but he hadn’t done anything to her other than engage in some playful banter. David hadn’t even laid a hand on the girl. “You want to win don’t you. Iffin you aren’t sure of an answer, you try to piece together the little bits, like you’re working on a puzzle without the picture to guide you.” She didn’t need to answer him verbally, for her raising the bid. Again, she was trying to get the last point to be hers. Then she threw emphasis on the word “mark”

Rookie lie mistake number one, outright deny whatever someone accuses you of. Make them think that they were mistaken without telling them that they were right in the first place. Saying that you did not do something instantly cast suspicion that you did. He could play it cool, act as if he had completely missed her last comment. Doing so would be out of character for how the rest of their time together had been going. Could go with a lie, but the girl was smart. Instead David looked at her, confusion playing across his face. Time for the British approach. “Pardon?” he asked. His confused look was authentic, and rather than being frightened or nervous, he was enjoying the girl’s insight.

What had he done to suggest he was any different than the rest of the crowd in the auction house? David had made bids, mingled, enjoyed a glass of champagne earlier. Ever since the bank job he had been laying pretty low, going more for gathering information from his network than actually doing something immoral or illegal. And yes, he was gaining some insight as to whom he could pursue the pockets of , but honestly, he had come here for pleasure mostly. He had a collection of maps and atlases. When looking for an older one, pawn shops and auction houses seemed to be the best option. Nothing of the sort was on the bid list this night.

There was a flicker of what seemed like an internal debate across his features. He was good, and managed to focus his expression on a look of honest confusion. Her echoes weren't certain that was all there was too it though. They picked up on the more subtle of facial expression, the movement; it made it very difficult to lie to her. Perhaps he hadn't been intentionally seeking out a 'mark', and maybe her echoes were wrong, but now he was still trying his best to just pretend he didn't know what she was saying, and sift through his confusion. Fair enough. She could play that game for a few more moments.

As the bidding started to wrap up, she took the moment to display her number, sealing the desk as her own. The amount it went for was impressive, more what someone would pay for a small recreational vehicle than a desk, but she didn't seem to mind much. As her handler went to deal with the sale, she decided now was the time to make her move. She was done with this auction, and if her companion was going to play games, she was going to make them interesting.

She grabbed David by the elbow and jerked him towards the exit. She was small in size, and if he resisted, there would be no way she could move him. But the way she tucked her arm along his made it look like he was escorting her, rather than the other way around. If escorting could be the proper word... at this particular point in time, she was pretty much kidnapping her new companion.

He moved, surprisingly, and she had the calmest of expressions as she started towards the door. Perhaps his curiosity would keep him from saying anything until they were outside. Or his greed. Maybe both. A few strides, and they were past the security guards at the door and into the air. Sweet air. She shot him a look that was partly innocent, with a darker undertone.

"Keep walking." She said breezily. She wasn't sure if he would listen, but they'd made it further than she expected as it was.