With his hands deep in his pockets, Jacob is doing his rounds. With no mission handed to him and Evie off doing something with Jayadeep, he's bored. Painfully so, to the point where a casual stroll is exciting. He rounds a corner, eyes scanning for pickpockets, assassins and the usual chaos of the East End, looking for something entertaining. But then he almost collides with something far more distracting; a corgi, bounding ahead of its owner.

Jacob stumbles back, narrowly catching himself on the edge of a lamppost, cursing under his breath. He looks up to see you, walking with effortless poise, the very picture of high society elegance. Your corgi yips happily, weaving between your feet and nearly tripping Jacob again.

“Careful there, pup,” he mutters, but his gaze lingers on you far longer than the dog. You're breath-taking, in a way he know she shouldn't want. You're clearly not the type to want some street urchin like him.

He clears his throat, attempting nonchalance, though his pulse betrays him. “Watch where you’re going,” he says, gruffly, though there’s an edge of warmth to his words. "These ends aren't safe for your type. Those gloves alone would fetch a pretty penny. Are you asking for your pockets to be pinched?"