Stepping off the bus, Grace wrinkled her nose and ducked into the quickly moving crowd of people. Not two solid minutes into the big city of Chicago and she already didn't like it. Folks hustled around like they were being poked with cattle prods, pushing and shoving this way and that. In one city block, Grace saw more people than she'd seen in her entire life even pass through Thibodaux, Louisiana. 

With a ratty duffel bag slung over her shoulder, Grace was aware that she probably stuck out like a sore thumb. All the women and girls here were dressed in their Sunday fines, and it was just Tuesday. Despite looking like a mud bug in a flower bed, it wouldn't be too hard to make a little cash and find her way. As she started eyeing a fat-cat businessman, her stomach rumbled loudly. 

"Well, first thing's first I guess."

Stuffing her hand into the pocket of her blue jeans, she felt nothing but a few nickles and pennies. That wouldn't do for any lunch, so she waded into the stream of people and started scouting a mark. A few feet ahead, she saw a well-dressed man who looked like he'd seen more than his fair share of the buffet tables. From the way his pocket creased, she could tell there was a money clip inside. Grace followed a few lengths behind him until they came to a traffic light. The man stopped, along with the others in the crowd. This was her shot.

"Excuse me! Coming through! Hey! Hold up now!"

Grace elbowed her way through the crowd, waving toward a bus that was coming toward them. She wriggled herself right beside the suited man, making sure her duffel bag bumped into him a few times. With a practiced slight of hand, she managed to swipe the thick money clip and shove it into her own back pocket as the bus drove right on by.

"Well damn. That's the second time this week I done missed that bus."

She turned and sighed, then started to shove her way back through the crowd- the fat cat none the wiser that he'd been robbed. Once Grace was clear of the crowd, she took a sharp left into an alleyway and smirked, taking her score from her back pocket. She tossed the clip aside and started counting bills. Fifty, seventy, eighty, one-thirty, two-thirty. Grace almost hollered with delight at the amount she'd gotten. That was enough for a good meal and a cheap room somewhere for a few days. 

At the other end of the alley, she shoved the money into her pocket and rounded the corner; running right smack into another person. She stumbled back, just managing to keep on her feet. Squinting, she looked up toward the face of the person she'd collided with. He was considerably taller than her.

"Sorry there, pardner. I wasn't paying attention. Man, you built like a brick wall, you."

“Oh. Sorry.” Judas says as he extends his right hand to the woman. “I didn’t see you. Not exactly gentlemanly of me to not help a woman.” His left hand is holding a canister of alcohol.

Cautiously, Grace took the offered hand and shook it firmly, albeit briefly. 

"That's kind of you. Ain't run into too many 'gentlemanly' folks along my way here. Everyone looks so busy."

She eyed the flask in his other hand and smirked.

"You look like you got the right idea, though."

"You seem to be... in a rush. Where are you going, m'lady?" Judas asks, pocketing the canister. "I'll call us a taxi."

If Grace had ever had a mother, she probably would have warned her about getting into taxis with strange men and telling them her business. As it was, however, Grace never had a mother, or anyone to caution her in that regard. So, with a little shrug, she accepted.

"I just got into town, don't know nothing from nothing. Maybe you know a place with decent food that don't cost a fortune?" 

Attempting to look casual, Grace put her hand in her pocket and held tightly to her cash. Just because this guy seemed nice didn't mean he might not take a shot at her score. 

“Oh, and don’t worry. I ain’t pinching your money.” Judas waves and flags down a taxi. “And yes, I do know a very cheap place.”

Grace's eyes cut from one side to the other, pausing before she slid into the open door of the cab. Either she was really obvious, or he was used to seeing vagrants passing through. 

When they were in the taxi, she cleared her throat softly. 

"I'm Grace, by the way. What's your name?" 

“Judas. Just... just Judas.” The man says before taking a long sip from the canister. “You know where.” The taxi driver looks in mirror back at Judas before nodding and driving off.

Quietly, Grace sat in the cab and thought as she watched the big city race by her. So much to see, so many possible marks. Hell, maybe she'd be able to find a real job that didn't risk her neck every day. Her musings then went to the fellow beside her. A man hails a cab in a big place like this and knows the driver- and is known by the driver. Either he's worked for the cab company, or he's a 'get arounder.' 

As the car wound through the streets, Grace decided to try and strike up more conversation. The woman at the orphanage in Thibodaux used to say that she could hold a conversation with a brick wall and still learn something. So, with a friendly smirk, she asked.

"This place is awful big. You from here originally?"

“Nah. I grew up down in Chicago, moved to Las Vegas, then started going around.” The taxi was still going. “What about you? You said you’re new to the place. Where you from?” Judas asks then sips from his canister of alcohol.

"Louisiana. Down on the bayou, a little town called Thibodaux. It's where I was born. Spent most of my time there, but I've been wandering myself for a few years. This is my first time here, though."

Her stomach growled. Grace gave a shrug.

"Guess I'm not much for staying in one place long. I'm more of a 'grab and go' kind of girl."

“Op. We’re here.” Judas says as a taxi stops in front of a diner. “Place got the best coffee and pancakes, like, MMMMMMM!” Judas exaggerated to try and get a laugh out of her. “So good. Like no joke.” Judas holds the taxi door for her as he gets out.

Grace did, indeed, laugh as she slid out of the car. 

"Ohh, now you done gone and said the magic word. I love pancakes." 

Following him inside, she wondered if a place like this would have grits. Did they even have grits in this part of the country? 

The smell of coffee hit her as they entered the moderately busy diner. It was like a breath of fresh air. She'd probably not eaten in two days now. Once they were in a booth, she shoved her duffel bag under the seat, but looped the handle over her foot so no one would steal it. 

"Las Vegas, huh? Never been there. I hear it's a mess of fun though. Maybe one day I'll get out there, see for myself."

“Hey. Get me and the lady a coffee. Get her some pancakes as well.” Judas throws a 50 dollar bill onto the counter, which was taken by the cashier. The order was shouted to the back, where the chef started to get to work. Two cups were placed in front of them and freshly brewed coffee was poured in. “It takes them a few minutes, but the wait is worth it.”