Norton catches Grey helping herself to the 7-11 stock.

Sometimes, cops go someplace to follow a lead. Sometimes they go someplace to crack down on the Bad Guys. Sometimes, however, they simply go someplace for cheap Tacquitos. Today is one of those times, it seems; Norton is standing in line, ludicrously overshadowing the tourists in front of him, waiting for his chance to grab a quick bite to eat. He's off-duty, so he's just wearing his usual plainclothes attire, complete with trenchcoat.

Grey is Up to No Good, as she so frequently is. Keeping one eye on the kid behind the till, and finding some amusement in how he divides his attention between the customers and her, she trails about the store with her skateboard under her arm. There doesn't seem to be a lot of purpose to her milling about, just idly moving up and down the aisles, touching everything. Apparently someone wasn't taught to look with her eyes, not her hands. Still, she rather pointedly doesn't pick anything up, never puts her hands anywhere near her pockets. She does make a bit of a racket as she passes the rack of cheap toys, those ones made in China and packaged in cardboard and plastic. As her hand sweeps over the displays, they swing wildly from the post, a few falling to the ground, which she doesn't bother to pick up.

Norton certainly hears that racket, and turns to narrow his eyes at the disruptive urchin as she goes about her business. "...Fuckin' brat." At first he turns back the way he was facing, toward the front of the line. However, staring at the back of these indecisive tourists' heads is pretty boring, so he glances back at Grey again.

Nothing to see here folks, move it along. Grey continues her circuit of the store, still quite plainly not putting anything into any of those pockets of hers. When she gets near the door, she pauses slightly, turning to look into the ice cream case. Out from under her hair, she casts a surreptitious glance towards the register jockey, and as he turns to retrieve a carton of cigarettes for one of the tourists, suddenly a candy bar comes zipping several feet through the open air to hit her open palm with a quiet 'thwack'. Her arm is kept at her side through all of this and she makes no move whatsoever, just pretending to be engrossed in the ice cream. The kid still hasn't turned back by the time she's tucked the bar away up her sleeve, and so now a package of liquorice makes a similar zip across the space of two aisles and right into her hand.

Norton's eyebrows shoot up as he sees the petty theft in action. He's used to seeing young kids - especially kids who look like /that/ - trying to get away with shoplifting. Doing so from a distance is a bit new to him. Still, he didn't get to be a cop for nothing. "Planning on payin' for those, kid?" Norton steps out of line and towards Grey, his gravelly voice rumbling dangerously. He doesn't actually plan on having to do the kid any harm, but in his experience putting fear of The Law into them works best, and Norton never intends to do things by half.

Grey tears her attention away from the clerk to look up at Norton. And up and up. She actually has to tilt her chin up a bit to make it all the way up, since her hair blocks some of her peripheral vision. By now the liquorice has been jammed into her pocket, though done hastily enough that a telltale corner of red plastic still peeks out. "Dunno what the fuck you're talkin' 'bout man," she insists in a low voice, beginning to back away towards the door. "Too cold for ice cream," she goes on in a louder speaking voice, for the benefit of those in line, and the employee.

Norton reaches into the breast pocket of his trenchcoat. "Got a real fuckin' mouth on you, brat. Better watch who yer talkin' with." He withdraws, predictably, his badge. "You ain't talkin' to just anyone. Now, you wanna put the candy back, or do I gotta hold you at the station an' give your mommy and daddy a call?" Not that he's entirely certain this kid HAS parents, but he figures she's bound to have some sort of guardian around to be ashamed of her for this.

Grey's eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of the badge, but, stupidly, she rather quickly refuses to actually back down, still moving slowly but steadily backwards towards the door. "I told you I dunno what the fuck you're talking about, okay? Ask him, I didn't take nothing." She jerks her head towards the clerk, though her eyes never leave Norton. Her entire stringbean body is ready to spring into action and bolt for the door at the slightest indication.

"Ain't fuckin' around, brat," Norton growls as he continues to loom over the underage shoplifter. "You can give the candy back now, an' maybe the nice man behind the counter won't hold it against ya. Or you can keep tryin' to pit yer word against a cop's, an' see where that gets ya." Norton's eyes flicker to the doorway behind Grey, though for a reason she probably can't immediately see - the notches set alongside the doorframe to ensure that any criminals' heights get recorded as they pass by the hidden camera aimed straight by the door. Gotta love mini-mart security.

It's enough to get her to glance back over her shoulder for a moment, but Grey doesn't even notice the notches since she's expecting something more like reinforcements to be blocking her way. Notches are way down on her list as she turns back to look at the looming, angry cop. Her gaze flickers over him, then over to the clerk, the tourists (who think this is a great display of local color!), and then back to Norton as she weighs her options. It's that point in the negotiations wherein the criminal realizes her options and a slight edge of panic sets in as she tries to choose between sensible or stupid. Oh, as if it was even a contest. Without moving, Grey 'pulls' a free-standing magazine rack towards her with it scraping across the floor and then promptly shoving it over as soon as it reaches her, before turning to bolt for that notch-lined door.

"HEY!" Norton reaches out to halt the fall of the magazine rack, with questionable success - oh, he stops it from falling to the ground all right, but the magazines still tumble out onto the ground, and Norton puts a slight dent in the rack to boot (a few hours later, the clerk will notice this and decide that 7-11 really must have some freakin' poor-quality racks). He doesn't give chase, however - tempting as it would be to do so, his options are limited to hoping no one notices that he's leaving craters in the ground as he runs after her, or throwing something at the back of her head. The latter is PARTICULARLY tempting, but he doesn't particularly want to worry about what the handbook says about giving 14-year-olds concussions. Instead, he looks to the clerk. "Better get ready to send a copy of that security reel down to my precinct. Not exactly something worth arrestin' over, but I wouldn't mind figurin' out who that kid is an' bustin' her parents' balls over lettin' their brat run amok like that." He points at the candy displays Grey recently liberated. "An' you might wanna take a quick inventory."