What was Roanesca doing in the crowd? Yep-- you guessed it, reaching out towards unsuspecting pockets. Frequently, the girl would take 3 George Washingtons worth of bucks, while carefully keeping an eye on anyone who had the right to mete out punishment. To be more specific, she's keeping an eye on that security guard with a creepy partner who he could probably use as sanction. 

Sometimes, though, she stops in her tracks and antics occasionally to give a glimpse and a greeting at some passing acquaintances. 

"Well, if it isn't Romsk-" a ponytail-haired girl waved a few feet away, interrupted by a gripey reply.

[color=6ecff6]"It's Roanesca!"[/color] the hatted girl leaned towards the ponytail girl's direction, puffing up her cheeks to prepare for an emphasizing scream. [color=6ecff6][i][b]ROANESCA![/b][/i]"[/color]

"Oh! Sorry, Romane- gah, fuck it. Eh, anyway, got plans for today?"

Roanesca rubbed a finger on her chin.

[color=6ecff6]"Nope. Nothing on mind."[/color] Other than stealing, that is.

" You look like an oddball in the hall, having no one to be with tonight. Do you have someone to dance with?"

[color=6ecff6]"Are you sayi-"[/color]

"Well, it's only a dance! It's only intimate if it's the promenade."[i] Hey, that sentence rhymes![/i] "Have a few suggestions."

[color=6ecff6]"Well? Let's see what you have." 
[/color]

The ponytail girl pointed her slender finger to her first recommendation among the men in the vicinity, which happened to be... a stutterer. Roanesca wasn't particularly appealed, mainly because despite his decent appearance, she could tell that something was a bit off.

[color=6ecff6]"Next."[/color]

"What, you're not alright with him? Besides, they say he's talented."

[color=6ecff6]"He's alright, except that he seems to be a bit of a looney. Next."[/color]

The acquaintance pointed next to a pair of men.

[color=6ecff6]"Who? The pompadour, or the bald?"[/color]

"Any of them."

[color=6ecff6]"I'd say they're both good, but let me see the rest."[/color]

"Alright. How about him-"

[color=a36209][b]"WAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOO!"[/b][/color] shouted the man the ponytailed acquaintance pointed at.

[color=6ecff6]"Naw, shit!"[/color] the hatted girl muttered to herself.

A familiar face, a face she had recalled from her childhood, popped into view. Roanesca didn't exactly like the man called Jeremiah Crawthorne, or simply Jerry as many call him. Why, you ask? Mostly because she herself has been his top victim of catcalling, swooning and showoffs. Perhaps it would be much better if Elena from the bakery next door to the orphanage was Jerry's target, since she actually did like him and would make a great housewife in the long run. Or he could have chosen Teresa from the house across the street, who actually has real Harvard potential. Why her, out of all the people his desires would have picked? 

Right now, Roanesca silently prays to any deity out there that hopefully Jerry Crawthorne would not recognize her under her hair dye and her years' worth of aging. [i][color=6ecff6]Please, God, whatever you can do, don't let him know me under these covers.[/color][/i]

The other girl, noting Roanesca's incoherible muttering, furrowed brows and frown, asked;

"Too boisterous?"

[color=6ecff6]"Yeah. Keep looking."[/color]

...

...

...

...

...

[color=a36209][h2][b][i]"NOW WHO'S READY FOR JERRY!"[/i][/b][/h2][/color]