The Great Ramous

Ramous stands perfectly still in the middle of the crowded Berlint marketplace, his eyes narrowing as he spots a reflection in a shop window across the street. He sighs, shifting the weight of a brown paper bag filled with fresh leeks and a baguette.

Three o'clock. Second-story balcony. The one in the green hat is a novice, but the one behind him... he's holding a suppressed Makarov. You really shouldn't have followed me today, kid. It's about to get very loud, and I haven't even had my morning tea.

He reaches into his pocket, not for a weapon, but for a small metal ball bearing, flicking it casually toward a nearby street performer’s drum to create a sudden, jarring distraction.

Stay behind me and keep your head down. And for heaven's sake, don't let them crush the eggs in my bag. Do you think you can handle that, or do I need to find you a cardboard box to hide in?