Oh, no, you don't! (Javert/Open/Casual)

[JIAO "JO" MAHR]

With a jolt, she was brought back from her adventure, the 103 bus tossing slightly as it drove over a shallow pothole. Her eyes brightened from their previously glazed expression as she focused on the pedestrians rushing back and forth on the sidewalk. Slowly the bus pulled up to the stop between 3rd and 4th streets, navigating the numerous yellow cabs that moved along Bowery as it made its way towards the curb.

Jiao glanced briefly toward the driver from the first row of seats and moved to sit closer to the aisle. She would rather have people stepping half over her to get to and from the window seat, than find herself trapped there by someone who took up more seat than normal. A small enough price to pay if you wanted to be able to exit quickly when your own stop came around.

Her hand held loosely over the satchel sitting on her lap, she turned her attention again toward the bustle of the city seen out of the bus window. The doors swung open and the line of people who had stood around casually before started to file in, the sound of coins making a type of music as each paid their fare and then moved deeper into the bus in search of a seat. Jiao lifted her hand for just a moment to hide the yawn which had decided right then to assault her.

As she finished the yawn, she felt the weight of the satchel disappear from her lap and only briefly managed to catch sight of a dark head disappearing out of the bus, running past towards the rear of the bus.

"Hey!" she shouted, and was up a mere second later, pushing past the last person who was paying their fare as she readied herself to give chase to the vagabond who had decided that robbing a poor college student was going to be worth their while this fine day. Once out on the sidewalk, she shouted again "Hey! Come back here!" and started running in the direction that she had seen him disappear in, her height allowing her plenty of opportunities to catch sight of him as he bobbed and weaved between the throng of people.

Without hesitation, he quickly rounded the corner, leaving Jiao with no option but to put all her energy into running while he was out of sight. She couldn't afford to not have her eye on him for too long or she would surely loose him completely if he managed to duck into one of the many doorways that might line that particular street that he had just gone down.

~:Great! Just great!:~ she thought to herself as she pushed herself forward.

[NINA TENARDÍZ]

It wasn't often that he gave his mother any credit. One kind of had to pity the woman, a bit, that even her attempts at parenting fell flat. To Detective Javert, however, it was a little funny. There was the ever-odd time when something she had taught him had stuck; for instance, he'd known how to pick-pocket from the earliest age, and the deep-seated knowledge of the technique helped, to say the least. It was hard to outrun a cop who knew exactly where you were going.

One lesson, though--one very important lesson he'd learned from her--wasn't even intended to be a lesson. Funny, really. When Mère and Père had taken a temporary interest in smuggling stolen property through the city, things were a bit better. Money wasn't as tight. Mum was cheerful, and always cried out, "Je suis tout ouïe!" when her husband would pitch a new job to her.

I'm all ears.

It was a phrase that Javert used often, now. Ironically, when Athos was ready to pitch a new case to him. Every time he thought of it, he smiled in spite of whatever terrible murder or whatever she had to tell him about. Ah, well. Athos already knew he liked his job, right?

Javert was tout oreilles, at all times. Hearing shouts in the streets of NYC wasn't rare in any sense of the word, and yet having open ears was more than just being able to hear, it was being able to understand. And, right about now, there were shouts from the next street over that needed attention.

He'd been sitting in his cruiser, probably the only quiet place in the city, mulling over some letters. All of the freaking letters. Some people thought it was real funny to give the police more work than they already had, especially with something that was getting to be a crisis situation. The Ripper. No conclusive prints, no leads, nothing to point in the right direction. A criminal profiler had been contacted. Hah. Those reports were scrap paper; every one said the same thing, and half of the time, they were just guessing. Psychology could not tell you what size shoes this creep wore. Jesus.

And just like that, he had been pulled from the inevitable bad end of the sentence, "Therefor, I suggest that the police force focus their time and money on..." with an urgent shout carried from the next street over and through his open window. Javert raised his head, laying the papers down on the dashboard, giving it a moment before he shoved open the cruiser door and stepped down. That shout wasn't in good fun; he could read an honest sense of frustration and outrage, as well as a twinge of fear. Damn, he'd have been a good criminal, smelling fear and all that.

"Hey, come back here!"

Theft! Nothing like one of those to brighten up a day.

He trotted down the alley, hoping to cut across into the street, but it seemed that his rookie luck hadn't left him; barreling right into the burly officer was a thin, greasy-looking guy clutching a shoulder bag. Javert more or less plucked him up. "Bonjour, mon ami! What'd ya nab today?" He yanked the bag from the man's now-shaking hands. Small; cheap but trendy. This was a woman's bag for sure. He turned it slightly, coming across the name J Mahr.

"You stole a purse," he mumbled as he looked over the bag--it was more of a bland, almost disappointed statement as opposed to a question. Urgent footsteps hit the pavement, and the thief started to thrash more violently in an attempt to get away. Javert leaned slightly out of the mouth of the alley, holding out the bag as the owner approached. He couldn't quite see her face, but her form was distinct as she rushed through the crowd, toward them.

"Miss Mahr--" Mahr said with a hopelessly French accent, soft R and everything, "--I believe this is yours..."

[JIAO "JO" MAHR]

Jiao was not shy when it came to running. It was one of the few pleasures that she enjoyed when she had excess energy to burn off, or when the stories filling her head seemed to be pulling her in a million different directions. Long stretches of grassy fields were her especial favourite. She could even be persuaded to run at one of the track fields at NYU. And she most certainly didn’t need any persuasion to take a long run through the city streets first thing in the morning when the dry cleaners downstairs started their early morning shift. Anyone in their right mind would want to escape those fumes!

This, however, was laborious. The crowded streets meant that she was weaving and dodging a lot more than a normal run required, and as such, she could feel the burn of her efforts starting in her legs as she turned the corner. ~:Where is he?:~ She wondered to herself as she looked down the street and didn’t immediately see the dark head that had ducked out of the bus. She continued running, but now looked right and left as she passed doorways.

She was just coming up on an alleyway when first a hand holding her satchel emerged "Miss Mahr--" Javert leaned out of the alley, "--I believe this is yours...".

She slowed her run as she approached Javert, the relief evident as her asian features smoothed "Oh, thank goodness!" Jiao sighed as she reached out for the satchel that he held out towards her. She did a quick search through the contents to make sure that everything was still there... notepad, pen, wrap, change purse, apples, keys. Once satisfied that all was accounted for, she flipped the satchel closed again.

"Thank you so much!" She smiled, and then blinked, as though only now realising that Javert still held the low-life hostage. "And you!" She scowled at the thief and moved her satchel back over her shoulder before she brought it round swiftly as if to knock him over the head.