━━━ . ݁₊ 💌 ⋆ ⌗ ☎️ ◞ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞.
how (not) to shoplift successfully

the thing about stealing is that it's not hard if you're good at pretending you're supposed to be there. lynn lewis was great at pretending. maybe that's why she'd never gotten caught before. or maybe she'd just been lucky. either way, today wasn't supposed to be the day her streak ended.

but apparently, god had other plans.

"ma'am."

she froze, halfway to the door of the little corner store, a pack of gum clutched in her hand and a very unbought bottle of nail polish tucked into the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. for a split second, she thought about running. but she wasn't exactly dressed for speed in her platform boots, and let's be real, she wasn't the "high-speed chase" kind of criminal.

so, she turned around slowly, blinking up at the man blocking the exit. tall. broad-shouldered. wearing a leather jacket like he thought he was starring in some gritty crime drama. lynn immediately decided she didn't like him.

"yes?" she asked, tilting her head and giving him her best me? an angel? expression.

he didn't look impressed. "you're going to want to put the nail polish back."

lynn blinked. "nail polish? what nail polish?"

he raised an eyebrow. "the one in your sleeve."

oh, so he was one of those people. the ones who paid attention to things that weren't their business. nosy. annoying. probably listened to true crime podcasts for fun.

"wow," lynn said, crossing her arms ( and very subtly tucking the bottle deeper into her sleeve ). "is this really how we're doing this? just accusing random black girls of stealing? what is this, 1964?"

the man's expression didn't change. not even a flicker. okay, so maybe he wasn't easily rattled. but she wasn't giving up yet.

"because, honestly," she continued, letting her voice tremble just enough to sound convincing, "this feels, like . . . racist. do you do this to everyone who comes in here? or just people who look like me?"

his lips twitched. not a smile, but close enough to irritate her. "cute," he said. "but no. i do this to everyone who tries to shoplift. now, the nail polish."

lynn gasped, pressing a hand to her chest like he'd just insulted her entire family. "shoplifting? me? sir, i don't know who raised you, but where i come from, we don't accuse innocent people of crimes they didn't commit."

"right," he said dryly. "and where you come from, do innocent people walk around with bottles of nail polish in their sleeves?"

ugh. he was annoying. and smart. a dangerous combination. still, lynn wasn't about to back down now.

"you know what?" she said, straightening up and fixing him with her best glare. "i don't have to stand here and take this. i'm leaving. because i have rights. and also, because you're, like . . . what, forty? and following a teenage girl around a store? that's creepy."

"i'm twenty-nine," he said, deadpan. "and i'm not following you. i'm stopping you. there's a difference."

"sure," she said, rolling her eyes. "that's what they all say."

for a second, she thought he might actually let her go. but then he held out his hand.

"the nail polish," he said again, voice like granite.

lynn stared at him. she considered her options. she could keep arguing ( he looked stubborn enough to stand here all day ). she could make a scene ( but there were, like, two other customers, and one of them was a grandma who definitely wouldn't take her side ). or she could . . .

fine.

with a dramatic sigh, she pulled the bottle out of her sleeve and dropped it into his palm.

"there," she said. "happy? you've singlehandedly stopped the most dangerous criminal in glendale. want a medal?"

he didn't answer, just gave her a long, unimpressed look.

"okay, cool," lynn muttered, brushing past him toward the door. "i'm leaving. congrats on being a hero, officer . . . " she paused, squinting at him. "wait, are you a cop? because that would explain the vibe."

he let out a short laugh. "close enough."

lynn stopped in her tracks. turned back around.

"wait," she said slowly. "you're serious? you're actually a cop?"

"fbi," he corrected, flashing her a badge.

lynn's stomach dropped. her mouth went dry. for one wild second, she considered making a break for it.

but then he spoke again.

"gracelynn lewis, correct?"

her heart stopped. how did he -

"we need to talk."

she should have just paid for the stupid nail polish.

lynn stared at him, her brain scrambling to process what she'd just heard.

"we need to talk?" she repeated, like it was the punchline to a joke she wasn't in on. "are you gonna try and sell me a timeshare next, or . . . "

he didn't laugh. didn't even blink.

"you're not in trouble," he said.

that made her narrow her eyes, because no one ever said that unless you were absolutely in trouble.

"right," lynn said slowly, folding her arms. "so, what? you're following me around a bodega and pulling the fbi card for fun? is this, like, your day off or something?"

his expression was maddeningly calm, like he dealt with smart-mouthed teenagers on the regular ( he probably did ). "i've been looking for you."

she froze. "you've been- excuse me? what does that even mean? who are you?"

he ignored her question entirely. "we should talk somewhere private."

lynn snorted. "uh, no. i don't even know your name. and you just accused me of shoplifting. why would i go anywhere with you? are you, like, trying to kidnap me? blink twice if you're having a midlife crisis."

"briggs," he said flatly. "special agent briggs. and no, i'm not kidnapping you. i'm recruiting you."

this was officially the weirdest day of her life. lynn tilted her head, studying him like he was some kind of alien creature.

recruiting? what did that even mean?

"okay, sure," she said. "and i'm recruiting you to leave me alone. how's that working out for you?"

briggs sighed, the kind of heavy, long-suffering sound adults made when they realized teenagers were too much work. "look, i'll explain everything, but not here." he glanced around the store like he was expecting someone to burst through the door.

"you're freaking me out," lynn said, even though she wasn't actually freaked out. she was intrigued, which was worse. "is this, like, a spy thing? am i about to be the next james bond? because, no offense, you don't really look like the guy who trains secret agents."

"just come with me," he said, then added: "please."

lynn raised an eyebrow. "you don't look like the 'please' type, either."

"i'm not," briggs said. "but here we are."

she opened her mouth to throw out another smart remark, but something in his tone stopped her. he wasn't joking. and he wasn't angry, exactly, but there was this edge to his voice, like he wasn't used to being told no.

so she shrugged, slipping her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. "fine," she said. "but if this turns out to be some MLM pitch, i'm suing the federal government."

briggs didn't smile, but she thought maybe - just maybe - his mouth twitched.

the "private place" turned out to be his car, which was somehow even sketchier than the bodega. lynn slid into the passenger seat and immediately regretted it.

"this is, like, serial killer 101," she muttered, eyeing the plain black interior. "you know that, right?"

"if i wanted to kill you," briggs said, starting the engine, "you'd already be dead."

"wow," lynn said. "that's, uhm . . . comforting? thanks for that."

briggs didn't respond, and the silence stretched out long enough for her to start tapping her fingers against the door.

"so," she said finally. "are you gonna explain, or is this just an elaborate prank?"

briggs glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "you're smart, lynn. you know this isn't a prank."

"debatable," she muttered, but she leaned back, crossing her arms. "fine. lay it on me, big guy. what's the deal?"

he hesitated, which she wasn't expecting. she'd pegged him as the no-nonsense, straight-to-the-point type, but now he looked like he was picking his words carefully.

"you've been on our radar for a while," he said finally. "we've been watching you."

lynn blinked. "okay, what? that's creepy. is this about the nail polish? because i'm pretty sure fbi resources shouldn't go toward catching petty thieves. there are, like, serial killers out there. priorities."

"it's not about the nail polish," briggs said, exasperated. "it's about your . . . abilities."

her eyebrows shot up. "abilities? what, like i'm a superhero now? can i fly? because if this is about my grades, i hate to break it to you, but i failed gym class last year."

briggs gave her that look again - the one that said she was funny but also a giant headache. "you're a manipulator," he said bluntly.

lynn frowned. "uh, okay, rude."

"not in a bad way," he said quickly. "it's a skill. you read people. you understand them. you can make them believe whatever you want them to believe."

she shrugged, trying to play it cool even as her brain went into overdrive. "so i'm good at people. big deal. what's that got to do with the fbi?"

"a lot," briggs said. "and if you let me finish, i'll tell you why."

lynn sighed, leaning back in her seat. "fine. i'm listening. but this better not involve me wearing a wire."

briggs didn't laugh. he didn't even smile. but when he started explaining, her world tilted sideways.

━━━ . ݁₊ 💌 ⋆ ⌗ ☎️ ◞ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬...
word count: 1667 words

i. really short chapter to begin with because i didn't want it to be overwhelmingly long ( and i'm incapable of writing long chapters . . . ) but i promise it'll get better !!

ii. let me know what hour think about lynn so far !!

iii. constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated ( as long as it's polite ), i love reading and responding to all of your comments !!

iv. ps. ignore the double update for the this chapter, i messed up lynn's lore and had to fix it !!