Willis strode through the bridge adjusting the strap of his little black bag. The Merchant who wrote the contract shouldn't be too far. He sold old trinkets near the shoreline where Willis did his pickpocketing as a child. From the corner of his eye he saw an older man sizing him up. Willis frowned, a pickpocketer he had that look on him. How he stayed to the side and observed the shoppers and travelers exploring the port and choosing the weakest target.
It was same tactics Willis employed as a child. "Let's hope he picks the right people," Willis mumbled to himself.
It was same tactics Willis employed as a child. "Let's hope he picks the right people," Willis mumbled to himself.
