<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/la1bkup.jpg)</div><strong>Character Name:</strong>Eugene "Flynn" Ryder  (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=314998.msg15226306#msg15226306)<br/><strong>Hero Name:</strong>Flynn Rider<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>Wednesday March 1st. 8:30 (street), 9:45 (yacht)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Disney City Street, Then yacht on Potomac River<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Ursula<br/><strong>Mentioning:</strong>Hades<br/><hr/><br/>The charmed world that existed around Flynn Ryder seemed to always bend in his favor, except when it didn't. This morning was a mixed bag. First, who has to schedule a quick snatch and grab this early, before even coffee was able to be formed into existence? Apparently the thief who got a tip that the owner of a very sought after necklace was out of town and wouldn't be returning till later that afternoon. That's who! Well, former thief.<br/><br/>Besides, don't they say that relapse is part of recovery? At least that is what he, Flynn Rider - addiction counselor extraordinaire, says about ten times a day at work. Can't really help others until you've lived it, right? It was the current theory that was helping his conscious and half-dead brain get it together enough to pull off the con.<br/><br/>Twenty-five minutes tops - that's how long it had taken him to bypass security, scuttle unseen by any nearby cameras from local business, scale the building's fire escape, jimmy the window, crack the safe, and saunter out the front door - right into a fucking parade.<br/><br/>"I hate this city..." He muttered as the crooning of a nearby trumpet made him feel like he had a hangover. Wait, did he ever not have a hangover? Tucking a small draw-string bag into his leather jacket, Flynn did the only thing one did at a time like this - jump in and dance!<br/><br/>Whirling and twirling, throwing loving ladies up into the air, he was half-way across the street and out of sight when gunfire erupted!?! "Shit!" Guns meant bullets and bullets usually meant casualties - which brought the cops. Still doing his best imitation of footloose, Flynn tucked his arms under two nearby citizens - one very pretty lady and a flower-peddler who looked like he had just been caught up in the jubilee. His hearing sharpened suddenly, practically able to hear the zoom of the projectile as he danced his latest cha-cha partners out of the fray. Flynn deposited them behind a cop car that had suddenly made an appearance. They could more than certainly take things from there.<br/><br/>Maybe he would have stayed to help - maybe - but police and a reformed felon who was currently in possession of stolen goods didn't mix. A very large grin of pearly whites and a salute to the man exiting the squad car, and he was gone.<br/><br/>"Phew!" Flynn checked that his cargo was still safely in his pocket before he headed to the docks.<em>Crap!</em>He was late for the drop. What was new?<br/><hr/><br/>It took another forty-five minutes to get where he was going, a yacht moored somewhere along the Potomac. He had taken a few backtracks and smaller trails to make sure he wasn't followed. Not that he imagined his heist would be noticed for a while. He was just damn good at what he did - and - well, the DCPD would have their hands full with whatever manly manifestation had wreaked havoc in downtown. Flynn hadn't stuck around to see much more than bullets and black smoke. He had done a good deed with those two folks, but he was no Hero. The hard lump that formed in his throat at the thought of what he was about to do clinched it. Yeah, he sucked.<br/><br/>Not quite looking forward to a pat-down from the people on the payroll of his latest employer, Flynn hoped over the moorings on the side of the dock and choose to scale the side of the yacht instead of taking the direct route. Once standing upright again, he flipped the collar of his jacket up to protect from the rain that had begun to pour. Yep, mixed kind of day.<br/><br/>He strolled across the deck and headed inside to meet his impressive benefactor. Flynn tugged his jacket close around his chest. He trusted her, mostly. But he would make sure to be paid first before showing the goods.<br/><br/>"Ursula, I presume?" There went that smile of his again.