Izzy had the tingling feeling that she'd been made a mark long before she knew what was happening... one moment, she was fishing into the inside pocket of her leather jacket for a cigarette, the next she felt the conspicuous contact of a stranger.  Nobody bumps into each other anywhere west of Hollywood Boulevard with anything less than bad intent.  Sure enough, she shifted her hip and, against the tight denim over her ass, she could feel where the wallet just was.<br/><br/>She kept her face slightly averted-- the momentary surprise of the ruse causing her to think, carefully and quickly... so she responded as best she could.  She turned her dark eyes up to meet the girl's, smudged eyeliner accentuating her smoky gaze, and blinked once as she framed her mouth in a little 'o' of surprise.  Faking it came easy-- it was easier to fake an emotion every time she lost a piece of herself.  This girl was thinking about going pro.<br/><br/>Izzy giggled-- yes, actually giggled.  "Sorry--" she said with a grin and turned away, noting that the street-girl's classic bump-and go was in the retreat stage already.  No need to fake the smile any more, Izzy let the false expression disappear.  She flicked her eyes up and down the retreating street-kid... the camo pants hanging on her hipbones, the possibly accidental sway in her ass?  Isadora wasn't entirely sure if she was really attracted to the girl or if she'd had one too many and was just feeling lecherous.<br/><br/>Her wallet had nothing in it-- no ID, no credit cards, just a couple hundred dollars.  It was probably more than this kid had made all night, and she seemed to have her move down pat.  Izzy could let her go, mind her own business.  What would she do, turn the girl in?  Try explaining to her PO that she was seven counties away from where she said she'd be?  She should let it slide... better than getting a knife pulled on her, or attracting unnecessary attention from cops.<br/><br/><em>Yeah... that would be the easy way.</em>Izzy watched the girl's smooth walk, unobtrusive and meant to blend in, but maybe just a little bit cocky.  Tick-tock...<br/><br/><em>To hell with it.</em><br/><br/>She left the cigarettes where they were, snug in the inner pocket of her leather jacket, and opened the little zipper where she kept the spring-assisted tactical knife.  The girl was leaving the main drag for the safety of a side-street... yeah, Isadora knew she would want a cigarette soon enough, but she wasn't going to let this go.<br/><br/>Coiling her legs beneath her for a split second, she bolted after the pickpocket as soon as the girl reached the mouth of the alley.  Some inane song from the club was echoing in her head--<em>"all the other kids with the pumped up kicks better run, better run... faster than my bullet..."</em>Three strides was all it took to reach the alley, enter the darkness.<br/><br/>She hooked a hand into the girl's black halter top, twisting her upper body and wrenching her up against the wall roughly.  The knife was in her and and clicked open smoothly-- assisted opening blade springing up with a snap as the Izzy drove her shoulder against the younger girl's smaller frame.  She may have looked fairly tough, but that was no match for how she moved... she was fast, and strong, and she committed her full range of motion to the effort.  it was the kind of effectiveness that came from experience, her frame built solid under the dark clothes.<br/><br/>"Hands," she said in a husky voice, her breath coming a little faster than before.  "Show me your hands... the fuck you think you're doing, huh?"