The increased crowds for the ratification celebrations means that, on top of all the new arrivals and extra work trying to keep them all processed and in line and readjusting to this world, there's increased petty crime, too. The work never ends.

So the thief goes scurrying off through the crowds, jubilant in their successful grab, already speeding away before anyone can stop him—

Until he crashes facefirst into an immovable wall.

One second ago, the street had been empty air and a clear escape. Now, suddenly, that wall is Luther, teleported into place and a fist snaring the other man's collar and lifting him straight off the ground.

"We'll have that back, thanks," he says, with a brilliant smile that's cut right from the newspapers. Luther takes back the wallet while the other man's feet kick and windmill; he deposits him with the police along the parade route, like handing over a child throwing a tantrum, then starts working his way back through the crowd looking for the owner who shouted.

When Luther finds her, his smile's gone down a watt or two, down to blandly polite as he holds out the wallet. "I think this is yours, ma'am?"