Peter had lived on the streets long enough in his use to be aware of someone trying to pickpocket you, but this guy was slicker than almost everyone he had ever confronted in the past; he didn't register that something had been taken, but he did draw back from this man to get a better look at what had almost been lost (and this guy's face).

What met him was a shock in many ways.

He had almost lost a small, intricately designed book with peeling gold and silver leaf on its worn cover. It was a grimoire he'd inherited from his mother and kept on his person at all times; it should have been enchanted to stay on him.

Perhaps just as shocking was the fact that he was staring at an uncanny reflection of himself, unless his eyes were deceiving him.

"I- uh. Thanks." Peter pulled a hand out of his coat and held it out to take hold of the book. His voice, aside from that, would have made him stand out - after all these years, he'd never lost the touch of the Colorado wilderness in his voice.

( ooc; Hope you don't mind a face-twinning witch. If you're up for it, I'd love to toy around with some kind of potential connection here? )