Another grey foggy day in good old London Town. He had his coaching responsibilities up at Hogwarts but more often then not Mordecai found himself down in the big city, be it for a supplies run or a Quidditch meeting with the British Quidditch league. Even though he was now officially retired from the game Mordecai was not lost to the circuit. Which was why he was strolling down a London street on his way to Diagon Alley. The day before he had sat in for a League meeting on changing the penalty rules for the game or some such nonsense. He had barely any say on the matter but it was good to know what was going on first hand so he just bit the broomstick and made the trek back and forth. Also he couldn't stay cooped up in that school for more than a week or so before he started to go a bit stir crazy. Too many teenagers in one place, not enough room to fly, that sort of thing.
It just so happened that he was crossing a busy street, trying not to get himself run over by insane Muggle drivers, when he caught sight of a woman walking toward him. He paused for a moment to admire what he was seeing. Hey, he may be a sucker for a pretty face but he sure appreciated a nice looking woman.
It turned out that he wasn't the only one. Edging along behind her was a non-descript looking gent who seemed to have a keen interest with the lady's purse. Mordecai could just see what was going to happen before it happened and without giving it a second thought he veered off his route and darted between two parked cars which allowed him to come up behind the would-be pick-pocket.
"Oy mate. Is this yours?" Mordecai called out softly, just loud enough to get the man's attention.
"Wha?" The man slowed down long enough to look behind him and before he could make any sudden moves Mordecai hand his hands on the front of the man's jacket and forced him to stand on his toes.
"If I were you, I'd rethink my actions. Mate." Mordecai growled. He wasn't going to make a scene out in the open in the middle of a busy street. No wands, no spells, nothing. For a problem like this all he needed was a little persuasion. That is if you could call the Maori Death Glare persuasion. Thankfully the man took one look at Mordecai's face and realize that he had been caught red handed. No fuss, no problem. When Mordecai relaxed his grip the man straightened his jacket, gave him a nod, turned on his heels and sped off in the direction he came. Some little old lady was probably going to end up having her purse stolen after that but Mordecai couldn't save them all.
Now, where did that woman go to?