A third of the world is covered by the howling maelstrom that was born a century ago. It is not ordinarily a place you'd find people surviving, but sometimes things appear in it. Strange things - otherworldly things - brought into the mist of a howling storm of cloudy dust and wind that blows in whichever direction it wants.
The wax tablet doesn't move. As soon as the kid brushes up against her, neither does he. "Kid, what do you think you're doing?"
"Laithan, I think this kid was trying to swipe my tablet and I might recognize him from a few minutes ago, I'm guessing pickpocket. What's standard for those?"
"I don't recognize him, so he's from out of town. You want to identity who you're with, or do we have to keep you somewhere till they come get you?"
"At least as far as we know." Back to the donkey merchant with a kid stuck to her arm.
Several of the nearby stall owners and two customers suddenly have very obvious weapons visible, ranging from pistols to knives. Is the guy sure he wants to insist?
"Do you have the various shopkeepers on retainer as emergency security backup?"
"No, they just know who I am - oh also, the fee is yours to keep," he says, handing it over.
"And because he attempted to steal from you - normally it would be split between the people who apprehended the person and the people he stole from."
"Would it be very locally odd to tip the people who made it clear that he had to hand over his fine?"
She will eyeball an easily separable amount and hand bits out to everybody who convincingly looked like they stood ready to be an impromptu militia.