"That'll do." John's eyes narrowed as he rummaged around in his trench pockets for a moment. Pulling out a worn silver coin minted in a country that hadn't existed for a long time, he examined it for a moment to make sure the sigils cut into the surface were still clear. Then he flipped it carefully into the air, allowed it to rotate exactly three times as he recited three arcane words, and caught and palmed it as he focused his attention on the rich boy Crowley had pointed out.
"'Scuse me, guv," he called, his entire bearing shifting subtly as he spoke. Though nothing overtly changed, suddenly his age was more apparent in his face and voice, and clothes that had seemed merely ordinary and comfortably broken-in spoke of wear and ill-use that they hadn't actually experienced. That wasn't part of the spell; it was just a matter of changing how he carried himself and letting the observer fill in the details from his first half-formed impression. He'd had a lot of practice at it.
The young man glanced in their direction, and John smiled benignly. "Spare a poor Scouse a fiver for lunch?"
He watched as the boy's lips started to curl into an arrogant sneer and he opened his mouth to deliver a snarky retort ("Get a job," would be John's guess, not that he'd ever find out,) and marked the precise moment when his spell took hold and the haughty expression wavered, fading into mild confusion. Got him.
"I...uh. I suppose," the kid said, slowly reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing a fat leather wallet, all the while staring into John's eyes as though he couldn't tear his gaze away, which wasn't far from the truth. "Are, uh. Are you sure five is enough?"
"I reckon so. Wouldn't say no if you were feeling more generous, though." John would have liked to wink at Crowley, but he didn't dare take his attention off his mark. He kept on smiling, radiating harmless benevolence with just the right touch of world-weary resignation as the boy opened his wallet and fumbled through it, never glancing down at the contents for more than an instant at a time.
"Well, I...actually, you know what, I really don't need this," the boy said dazedly after a moment. "I've got thousands in the bank, and a trust fund...here, why don't you just take it?" He closed the wallet up and handed it over with only a flicker of hesitation.
John took the billfold and nodded politely. "Ta, guv, right decent of you."
"Yeah," said the kid with a weak smile. "Hey, do you want my checkbook, too?" he added as if on a spur of inspiration.
John's eyebrows rose fractionally. Clearly, the Force had a strong influence on the weak-minded. "Nah, I think I'm good," he said. "Tell you what though, why don't you stop on your way home and make a donation to a charity?" His smile hardened a bit. "Like mebbe a battered womens' shelter."
The boy flinched visibly, and nodded. "Sure. Good idea. I'll, uh, see you around then." He turned and shuffled off down the path, shoulders slightly hunched and looking thoroughly bewildered.
"Tosser," John muttered when the kid was out of sight, pocketing his coin and opening the wallet to take inventory.
no subject
"'Scuse me, guv," he called, his entire bearing shifting subtly as he spoke. Though nothing overtly changed, suddenly his age was more apparent in his face and voice, and clothes that had seemed merely ordinary and comfortably broken-in spoke of wear and ill-use that they hadn't actually experienced. That wasn't part of the spell; it was just a matter of changing how he carried himself and letting the observer fill in the details from his first half-formed impression. He'd had a lot of practice at it.
The young man glanced in their direction, and John smiled benignly. "Spare a poor Scouse a fiver for lunch?"
He watched as the boy's lips started to curl into an arrogant sneer and he opened his mouth to deliver a snarky retort ("Get a job," would be John's guess, not that he'd ever find out,) and marked the precise moment when his spell took hold and the haughty expression wavered, fading into mild confusion. Got him.
"I...uh. I suppose," the kid said, slowly reaching into his back pocket and withdrawing a fat leather wallet, all the while staring into John's eyes as though he couldn't tear his gaze away, which wasn't far from the truth. "Are, uh. Are you sure five is enough?"
"I reckon so. Wouldn't say no if you were feeling more generous, though." John would have liked to wink at Crowley, but he didn't dare take his attention off his mark. He kept on smiling, radiating harmless benevolence with just the right touch of world-weary resignation as the boy opened his wallet and fumbled through it, never glancing down at the contents for more than an instant at a time.
"Well, I...actually, you know what, I really don't need this," the boy said dazedly after a moment. "I've got thousands in the bank, and a trust fund...here, why don't you just take it?" He closed the wallet up and handed it over with only a flicker of hesitation.
John took the billfold and nodded politely. "Ta, guv, right decent of you."
"Yeah," said the kid with a weak smile. "Hey, do you want my checkbook, too?" he added as if on a spur of inspiration.
John's eyebrows rose fractionally. Clearly, the Force had a strong influence on the weak-minded. "Nah, I think I'm good," he said. "Tell you what though, why don't you stop on your way home and make a donation to a charity?" His smile hardened a bit. "Like mebbe a battered womens' shelter."
The boy flinched visibly, and nodded. "Sure. Good idea. I'll, uh, see you around then." He turned and shuffled off down the path, shoulders slightly hunched and looking thoroughly bewildered.
"Tosser," John muttered when the kid was out of sight, pocketing his coin and opening the wallet to take inventory.