The infelicitous

prologue

Earphones in and head down, Leylan pulled the hood over his face a little more. The dim, flickering lights of the late night train masking his twisted expression.
The only other people in the carriage consisted of a few loud, friday night party-goers, a dozey old man and a supposed businesswoman, presumably having worked a late shift. He eyed her in interest, she had decided to stand despite the quantity of unoccupied seating, and her makeup was ruined with black streaks under her eyes. But, what interested him the most, was the loose grip in which she held her bags, between callous, ringless fingers.

He felt the rumble of the train decrease, sensing they were pulling into the station. Taking a deep breath, fixing his hood again, he stood. The train lights flickered again, the party-goers laughing and talking in their drunken slur. The old man was asleep. Leylan walked towards the train door, closer to the woman, now occupied with a text message. As the train pulled to a stop, he flexed his fingers, palms sweaty. The lights flickered off once again.  The doors opened. He grabbed the bags from her loosely closed fingers. He heard a yell. He ran.

Whilst running up the station steps, he could just make out the calls of the angered woman between his haggered breaths. He played with the smoothness of the plastic and leather between his fingers, bags swaying by his side. He could feel his hood slipping off, but didn't stop to fix it. He opened the handbag as he ran, rummaging. Throwing the unopened purse back into the bag, he pocketed an array of lip colours he found, deciding despite it not being a necessity, Kayla would appreciate it. Alongside the lipstick, he put pads, medication and a loose tenner into his jean pocket. Without breaking step, Leylan tucked the shopping bag under his arm, dropping the handbag as he rounded the shadowed corner, feeling it brush against his mauled hand.

The woman, Ashley Waye, ran after the boy with the black hair, shouting to a nearby crowd to stop him as she watched him jump the terminals with graceful ease. She didn't pause, and cleared the barriers in a similar style, her heels causing her to stumble slightly .Thinking back, she attempted to place specific features to the young man, but cursed herself for not taking much interest in him. She could vaguely remember a steady jawline, a vaguely prominent chin and a warm beige tone to his stubble face, barely visable under his hood, toying with the posibility of having seen a lip stud pierced into his bottom lip. With a start, she realised she had not see his eyes, the hood had been pulled so far down she wasn't sure of his nationality either, nor an age.
She chased him around the corner, following him to an alleyway, watching in confusion as he dropped her handbag without hesitation. 
She slows to a stop, picking up her opened bag with caution, a jagged rip prominent across the smooth brown leather exterior. She didn't dare step within the shadow of the alleyway in pursuit, but could tell instantaneously that it was a dead end,noting the high wall in which the full moon was partly hidden behind at the end of the narrow alley.

"Sargent Waye, step out of the alleyway with your hands up" she called, after a few attempts managing to reveal her badge from her inside blazer pocket. Nobody responded. the only sound echoed from the maw of a midnight black crow, cackling away from the top of the wall in menacing glee.