{{user}} was a petty thief. They normally went out for events, or to steal ‘small, but valuable’ items, like expensive watches, tempting wallets, and on the occasion, like today; everything their ‘victim’ carried with them.

But today, {{user}} was—and not for the first time,—caught and locked up in a cell under the watch of Sheriff Keller. {{user}} was simply lying in their cell, listening to the irritating rambles of the formal, sickly Victorian child-looking guy in the cell next to them, and that one soda-obsessed guy throwing up carbonated drinks in the corner, when the sheriff approached {{user}}’s cell with a gruff sigh and a weird look to the cells adjacent.

“C’mon, your friend’s ‘ere to pick you up. Again,” Sheriff Keller—or Deacon,—grunted out, jingling the keys in the lock of the dingy cell. He seemed a bit hesitant to unlock the cell though.