Ficly

Foreign

“Please?”
My voice was high and pleading as I prostrated myself in front of the boy. Clasping my hands together, I gave him my best puppy-dog eyes as he tried to look away. People wandering the streets had stared, but who needed dignity when you could get a new knife?
His green eyes rolled as he turned towards me, brown hair twisting in the wind. “Seriously?” He murmured, gruff. “Ana, you’re rich. Just go home and get some money.”
Eyebrow cocked, I got up and dusted my knees off. “You do realize that my money doesn’t work around here?” Snorting, I tossed my hair, getting several more suggestive looks from the civilians. “I’m in your country,” I said, ignoring the looks. “I’m just a guest.”
He sighed. “And I’m just a kid, your Highness. But…” Jem drawled, “Since I’d rather you not steal it…”
Dropping a few golden coins into my palm, he looked up at me with a dimpled smile. Squealing, I kissed him on both cheeks, crying “I knew you were my favorite,” before skipping off towards the stall.

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