As the alley came in sight Dale could see a dark figure bent over the drunk who had been happily snoring away in it's entrance. He froze, watching as the figure drew a knife out of a sheath and silently cut the drunk's pouch from his belt. The man narrowed his eyes and glanced around. The street was still empty and the alley was only a few feet away. Trained reflexes took over and he advanced silently, little more than a shadow, as the figure opened the pouch and began rummaging through it. He paused for a moment, waiting until the thief was completely absorbed in the contents of the pouch, then stepped forward, one hand going to the thief's throat, the other grasping it's knife hand. In a single fluid motion he bent the thief backwards, lifted it off the ground to it's toes by the hand on it's throat and forced the knife hand open. The knife hit the ground with a dull thud and he shoved the arm up behind his prisoners's back. The other struggled slightly, stopping as his hand tightened around it's throat.