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The ginger's cane audibly hit against the sidewalk with every step. Ty was finally getting accustomed to having it; hell, he'd even taken the time to learn a few decent fighting moves with it. But he hated his now reduced mobility, which was pretty much his Christmas present from one Isabel. This also limited him to pouring over the seemingly endless Ragnarok roster instead of being active in the field. Damn kid always seemed to find a hundred more potentials as soon as Ty'd thought he was about to reach the end.

But today...today was different. He'd managed to take a day off from sitting in Jotunheim in front of the admittedly awesome big screen monitor and high speed computer, and he was out...picking pockets. He didn't need to, by any means. But it was fun. It was like riding a bicycle; he'd never forget, and he didn't want to. Something about it just made him feel so...


At that moment, he felt someone brush him. Most people would shrug it off as an accident because this was New York, after all. But not Ty. He took the opportunity to stealthily slip his right hand into the pickpocket's own pocket and pulling out the wallet within, but then he spun, sweeping at the stranger's foot with the cane in his left hand.

"Well," Ty said with a dry chuckle to get the guy's attention. His southern accent dripped off of his voice as he spoke. In this case, it actually provided a much needed charm and emphasis. "It seems as though two masters of their craft have met on the field. However, it may seem...that we are at an impasse." He gave another light chuckle, the smirk remaining on the ginger's lips.

Moments like this were what made it all worthwhile, though he'd seen numerous reactions when thieves were caught. This could either lead to a beautiful friendship, or a bloody street fight. And honestly, Ty would have been okay either way.

when she went for his throat, Ty's left arm instinctively lunged forward almost on its own. Whatever the stiletto hit, it hit. And then, apparently his words sunk in and she released her grip; and he put the entirety of his weight into the wall, groaning in pain and frustration.

"Sleipnir," he spat. "And I'm not exactly doing this...because I find it kinky. Apparently this mission needed someone on the inside, making sure the real cops weren't coming close to finding the bombs, and for some reason they thought I'd be the guy for the job. Trust me, otherwise I wouldn't be caught dead in this ****ing thing..."

His body shook with anger as his eyes narrowed even more. For some reason, he still didn't feel like he could trust her. He'd have to ask Cafas the next time they met up. But for now, he'd have to keep her at arm's length.

"Right now, just get close to her. Find out what makes her tick. All the while, make her think you're on her side. Do whatever you have to do. But if anything ever gets out of hand, I want you to call me," he explained, his gears still turning in his ginger head.

He was starting to see a darker side coming out of his half-sister. The last time he saw her, she was merely a mischievous punk kid who liked a little trouble here and there, and lived via less than legal means. He had to wonder if he'd brought that side out of her; if it was his fault that she was this way. To an extent, it kind of scared him, but at the same time, for this to work, he needed someone else with a dark side to them.

Then, he had to look at his own life. He knew he hadn't always been this way. He too was once a charming kid with a knack for the less-than-legal. But he knew he too had evolved to house a dark, sinister side under his still-charming exterior. Maybe that was just how life worked. Everybody had a shadow, after all.

For some unexplained reason, Ty wasn't as attentive as usual. Maybe the cop uniform was getting to his head, and he may have forgotten that there were people like him out there who gave cops hell. Or maybe he was just caught up in the job at hand. Or maybe there was no explanation and he was--as usual--in the wrong place at the wrong time.

As he was walking down an alley, a searing pain suddenly shot through his left leg. Strings of expletives went flying as he stumbled, turning around to look behind him. His hand reached toward the wound out of instinct, but as the warm blood made contact with his fingers, he let his palm find the denim, writing a short random series of images onto his pants for no other reason than the intimidation factor. As always, his eyes glowed red, piercing the darkness as he imparted the thoughts while his other hand went for his six-inch stiletto, the one weapon he always had on him.

Actually, the only thing he had on him that was standard issue, besides the uniform, was a pair of handcuffs, which Panu was likely not getting back. His eyes scanned the alley, looking for something, but then...he noticed something was...off.

In all the commotion, Skoll was just...standing there, wagging his tail. "What the ****!?!" he spat, those three words pretty much summing up all of his thoughts and feelings at once right now.

His heart raced as his leg developed it's own matching pulse, causing him to wince. He was starting to feel something he hadn't felt in awhile. A feeling he hadn't felt since he'd fled to Kansas. Ty was afraid. He knew that with pain surging through his leg, he wouldn't be any good in a fight, and he sure as hell wasn't running anywhere.

For once in his life, Ty fisher was wishing he had a gun, even if it broke his own loose moral code. But he did know one thing.

There was no way he was going to die in a G-D cop uniform...

Ty nodded. "Good. You're a step ahead of where I was at your age then. Morality is weird; all I can say is do what you feel is right. If anyone tries to change you or tell you otherwise...you know who you are. **** everyone else." Obviously, the ginger-headed young rogue had no filter on his language, but that really didn't matter.

Pulling out his wallet, he dug out a piece of paper and a broken pencil. He scribbled his number onto the piece of paper and handed it to her. "Here ya go, Jay. If you ever need anything, give me a call. I'll have your back."

He shrugged. "We learn how to make things work. Especially when you know the right people. But yeah, people try to talk all holier than thou, but it's easy for them to say. Just because we break the law, doesn't mean we're bad people. It just means we live by our own rules. It's 'bad' because it doesn't fit in with the norm."

Ty nodded when she said she shouldn't be staying there. "My thoughts exactly. You have anywhere to go. I mean, if you need anything, I've got your back. When I was your age, there was a time I'd have given anything to hear those words, so I'm giving you an option, not an obligation," he said politely. If she didn't want his help, he was fine with that, but it was better that he offer and it not be needed than for the reverse.

He chuckled at her tone as he filled up her glass while he was at it. This was nice, in a dark sort of way. Just drinking and bonding by talking about things they probably wouldn't talk about sober. Beautiful.

"Chicago? Nah. I'm from Georgia, moved to NY at fourteen, and I spent a year in Kansas. So while I may or may not have passed through, I've never actually stopped and smelled the roses there." He laughed at her comments about his music.

"What can I say? I'm really into rock music, from soft, to classic, to the all out heavy stuff." Then...she asked about his early life, and his smile faded a bit.

"I grew up in a small town, only child. Loved by my parents, that sort of thing. It was happy, as far as I remember. But...when I was ten, my mother died in an accident with a semi-truck. My dad turned to alcohol to cope, and...damn was he an abusive bastard when drunk. I ended up living with my aunt, and we moved to NY when I was fourteen. Two years later, she died, and I ended up homeless for awhile. Didn't take me long to get back on my feet though, albeit dishonestly. Then, a few years ago, my old man came back into my life, kicked my ass, stole my wallet, you know, fatherly stuff..." His voice grew darker with every sentence. "I don't remember how the whole story goes, because I ended up drinking most of that away, but I do know I killed him."

He shrugged a little, having said the words 'I killed him,' as if he'd just said it was raining outside; no emotion whatsoever.

"And that, love, is how I came to be the charming young fellow sitting next to you~"