WEST-AND-LONG at NIGHT
It hadn't been all that great of an idea in the first place, coming down to the docks in Vortas. In his defense, it had been a little warmer when the sun was out, but it had faded beneath the horizon a bit ago now, and it was... cold. It was fucking cold. He wasn't sure if it was worth it, being out by the water when it was so cold, but he liked the sound of the waves coming in, and he liked the activity near the ships, and he liked the sometimes overwhelming reminder that he was free, and that if he wished it to, any ship in the harbor could take him even farther away from Brunnhold. In the warmer months it had been nicer, but now the cold seeped into his skin and made a home in his bones. He didn't have much in the way of warm clothing; he hadn't exactly needed it when he arrived, and he hadn't even considered that he'd need to buy some. Having to think about clothes was still... odd, to him.
Lars was sitting at the edge of an empty dock, legs dangling over the side above the dark water, an old book in his cold, bruised hands. It was some novel that'd been old when it was bought in the first place, one that he'd taken along with him when he'd left the human family's house and went out to the apartment he resided in now. He wondered, now and then, if they cared that he'd taken it, or if they even noticed that it was gone. They hadn't done much reading while he was there, not that he had seen at least. They had always been too concerned with money, and food, and everything else that Lars had never had to think about in Brunnhold.
It was on his mind a lot, that.
In any case, he hadn't done much with the book besides flip through it, eyes scanning the pages while the sun had still been out and then folding it carefully shut once it'd went down. There were enough lights around to illuminate the pages if he wished, but he'd taken to watching recently instead, eyes following the last of the dockworkers as they finished up their shifts. Plenty of them had coats, and layers. He wondered if they were still cold, too, or if all that movement kept them warm. He'd been warm earlier, at the Queen, and he'd be warm again when he went home, if he ran the bath.
The thought of warm water was enough to stir him, the passive pulling himself up and starting to walk back to the waterfront. Lars held the book over his chest, both arms pulled in close so as to save whatever body heat he could, and he breathed out a shaky sigh as he came back to (mostly) solid ground. It might've been smarter to keep his head low, and keep his chin pulled close to his chest, but a mixture of curiosity and concern kept his gray gaze up, scanning the faces he passed, the hands lifted and waved and gestured in surrounding conversations, anything and everything that could be of use to him or used against him if he somehow stepped wrong, looked wrong - if he pissed someone off, in general. It didn't always take much.
It wasn't until a little glint of light caught his eye that Lars paused, gaze tracking the source of it until he registered what exactly it was -
A ring. It was on someone's hand, sure, someone bigger and probably stronger than himself, but it was a ring nonetheless, and he wanted it. His eyes darted up to the face as it passed; he'd seen him before, hadn't he? Right over... there, at the docks. He'd been working. Tired, then, and either on his way to go get sloshed in a tavern (that'd be convenient) or on his way home (less convenient, but possibly less people around). Right. He could follow that. Lars looked back down to the hand, getting farther away now, and he changed direction to follow at some distance.
He could get a coat with that ring, he thought. A warm one.
Plenty of things were running through his head as he followed after the man - how bad of an idea it was, for one, to be stalking some dockworker and wanting to take what was probably a wedding ring, how he could get stabbed and bleed out in an alley tonight, but also how nice it would be if it worked. Best case scenario, he got the ring, bought a coat with it, and he could steal the ring back later to wear. Worst case... well.
"Hey, sir," he called, once they were far enough from the taverns not to be overheard, "you - you work down at the docks, right? Sorry to bother you, but I found this old book down there, and I'm trying to get it back to its owner. This isn't your book, is it?"
Lars walked closer, no longer allowing himself the comfortable, casual distance of someone not wanting to be seen. He held the book out, slightly, looking to the man with concern, and the slightest little bit of hope.
"Or maybe you've seen someone with it?"