Yes(trans male victim|no top surgery)

Without a second thought, I launch myself down from the ship, landing silently a few feet behind my target. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I begin to stride towards the pair. The sound of the soles of my shoes clicking against the wood of the deck rings out through the night, drawing the pair’s attention to me, revealing my soon-to-be victim to be male. The setting moon shines against his features, highlighting striking green-bursting, blue rimmed eyes, thin yet soft lips, warm-toned light skin, and a strong jaw. It reflects against his long, brown hair, tied behind his head, similarly to my own.

I pull down my hood and turn my lips into a smile as I approach them, trying to make my appearance more welcoming. As soon as I get closer to the pair, a palpable uncomfortableness washes over me, hopefully one that I can use to my advantage. The closest man, the only one I truly care about, returns my smile, nearly as warm as that from an old friend. His immediate trust in me gives me hope that he won’t give too much hesitation or questioning to my trying to whisk him away.

The clear tension of the situation and the concern and discomfort covering the closer, shorter man's face tell me that I can easily adjust my strategy. Though I’d normally approach someone in a more susceptible state, glean the little I could from their thoughts, and take a shot in near darkness at a lie that would work, I don’t feel as though I have to do that. It seems likely to me that I could easily come up with any vague reason to separate the pair and it would work without any hitch.

Before the shadowed man gets the chance to question my presence, as he’s clearly working up to doing, I speak up to cut him off.

“Hello. Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve been having a bit of an issue and I could use some assistance.” I keep my words vague, leaving myself open to come up with a more convincing lie down the line, giving me more time to read him. Though it doesn’t align with my normal strategy, I bank on his own discomfort with the other man trumping any suspicion he may have of me.

“I’ll help,” my subject nearly blurts out, fairly eloquently. Even he seems surprised by his outburst, as his face pulls in on itself, before flattening again. I decide not to address it, using his surprise and rush to my advantage.

“Well, alright then. Follow me.” Without another word to or between either of us and the third man, we both turn and head down the dock, which soon turns into the street. We walk quickly, silently, soon leaving the docks and lapping waves behind us, orphaning the shadowed man to his own.

After a moment, we reach the home I’ve had waiting as a decoy for just this situation and I quickly guide him inside. The man still doesn’t seem suspicious of me or my motives, though that will likely fade soon. Thankfully for me, I’ve had enough time to read him, understand his inner thoughts and come up with a more solid plan.

“So, what was it that you needed help with?”