His pockets end up full of little trifles recently in other people’s pockets, because it helps him think. He wouldn’t say it keeps him calm. (It totally is about keeping calm.) The oldest lessons are the hardest, and the old skills need keeping up, even when lifting wallets hasn’t exactly been his day job lately. (It used to be. And when it wasn’t enough, they went hungry. Bigger things are better now.)
He plans like I plot, endlessly, elaborately, doing all the research he can get his hands on to fill his days, then filling in elaborate contingency plans when it might more usefully be time to sleep. And he’s very, very good at it. And the longer he goes between jobs the more he has the itch to prove that again. Because inside his head it’s tick tock clockwork, until it isn’t, until ways it goes wrong are all he can see, and he’s long since learned the point where he has to act or be frozen.
The Waverider messed with both of their heads, Mick because he couldn’t burn anything, Len because they never knew what they were going to do next until they were in the thick of it. This is a guy who knows response times to the second all over Central, who cases the place twice even when that gets attention, who spends months learning to take his equipment apart and put it back together before he uses it at all. Full tilt blindly is not his favoured way to proceed. And he is good, but not that good : they lose crew. They lose Mick, to torture prison, and nearly other ways. And it’s because the plan can’t keep up with the random factors. Because however good he is, he’s not good enough.
So he stashes Mick, somewhere safe, for later.
Which does not work out well for them.
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