Pickpocketing

“You’d never pickpocket me.” He smiled widely at Circe, pleasantly warm and his head buzzing slightly from the wine. “I’m always alert.”
Young woman’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you, really?”
Alastair snorted. “Of course! Besides you said it yourself, you’re not too good…”
“But I’m not that bad either!”
Alastair’s grin got even wider. “Ok, how about… I’ll take this septim and put it here…” – he carefully tucked the coin behind his belt. “Come on, try to get it from me!”
Circe’s eyes narrowed. “Are you challenging me?” She took a small step towards the man. “You?” She took another step, coming close. “Or are you just trying to piss me off?”
Alastair blinked, she looked really angry that moment – eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. Angry and… beautiful. He blinked again trying to clear his head and stand his ground. “Well, you wanted to prove you can make it after all, didn’t you?”
“Oh, you…” Circe’s finger was now poking him in the chest. “I! Do not! Have! To prove! You! Anything!” Abruptly she took a step away and turned his back to him, and Alastair suddenly noticed her shoulders were shaking.
He felt like a bucket of ice-cold water washed over him. He didn’t just make her angry, he… made her cry? “Circe, I… (am the worst, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me!)”
The young woman took a deep breath and turned to him. There wasn’t a trace of tears on her face and her eyes were shining with mirth – on the palm of her hand was lying a septim coin.
Alastair’s jaw dropped and his hand shot to his belt. There was no mistake, a coin on Circe’s palm was the one he challenged her to take from him.
“How did you…? When did you…?”
Circe stopped close to him again, took his hand and gently pressed the coin into it.
“Seems like I’m not that bad after all, aren’t I?”

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