7

[Some folks around Mayfield may notice something in the past few days - your wallet is missing. You had it in your pocket one moment, and then, like magic, it's gone! And no matter how many coat pockets you tear through, or couch cushions you overturn, or car seats you rummage under, you just can't seem to find it.

That is, until the next morning, when you go to get your mail and, just like magic once again, there sits your wallet. Everything you had inside it is still there - as a matter of fact, it might even be more organized than you last remembered. You don't see anyone around, and besides the Milkman, the only one that had been by was your paperboy sometime after that. But that was fairly early this morning...]

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[Private action]
[Besides some decoration planning for the dance, Crowe hasn't really come home much, other than to sleep, which he hasn't been doing much of anyway (despite the fact that blitzball practice was really wearing him out). Anyone else who's a night owl may see him walking the streets, or sitting in the park. You'll always be greeted when he passes with a genuine smile and a greeting.

It's late one night where he sneaks back into his own home, too tired to stay out any longer, and makes it up a tree to a hallway window. He swiftly opens the window and sneaks in silently. Mayfield's security may as well been from the stone age compared to what he was used to, and it made this sort of thing way too easy. But he wasn't watching himself well enough, and in his sleepy state snags his foot on the window, and stumbles inwards - directly into Sniper, who was just leaving the bathroom. Crowe staggers back a few steps, two wallets falling from his coat pocket as he does. He gives Sniper a startled expression, eyes wide, looking from the wallets back then back to Sniper.

Sniper grins. "Well well. What have you been up to, Little Mister Perfect?"]