Screams of agony made sellers and shoppers turn frantically to find the source. A man sat on the asphalt road, clutching his seemingly fine leg, yelling curses. Brynn shoved his hands deep into his jeans pockets, enjoying the feeling of his new leather jacket. He kept his head low, his black hair as unruly as always. "Such a Drama King, that one." He mumbled to himself, chuckling softly. He'd managed to walk all the way from the park, where a boy had fell and twisted his foot a bit, to the Market Street and shift it into the wealthiest-looking man before taking his jacket and walking away before anyone noticed. Yet, the man fell down immediately, crying out about how one of those 'useless different children'
had cursed him and broken his foot. "Deserved it," He ducked into a bakery, handing the server a few silver coins in return for a loaf of warm bread. He'd eaten half, stuffed the other half in a brown paper bag and stuffed that into his pocket as he walked out of the bakery, his eyes darting from corner to corner, trying to find his next target.
(Hope you don't mind if we start in the town.)