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adventureic2024-02-10 07:21 am
delias) wrote in adventureic2024-02-10 07:21 am
Entry tags:
MISSION #1004
WHO: Delia, Timmy, Asher
WHEN: Friday 9 February
WHERE: Griselda Allsop's Mansion, Alpine, New Jersey
WHAT: According to Faith, her rival Griselda Allsop stole a valuable painting from her. Their job is to break into Griselda Allsop's mansion and steal it back.
WARNINGS: Theft. Sibling Bickering. Pretend Infidelity.
“Oh good, you can read instructions,” Delia greeted, eyes running up and down their outfits to assure they met the standards she’d outline for them. Though she was a fan of any reason to dress up, Delia had to admit that the current trend of formal gloves was a real help for theft related formal events, even if the shoes added a level of complexity to sneaking. “You clean up really nicely, Ash,” she appraised before turning to Timmy. “And you’re fine too, I guess.”
Asher went the traditional route -- every gentleman thief should own at least one black tux. (It bothered him that what used to be a perfect fit was a bit on the looser side. Apparently gaunt wasn't just a feeling.) He even bothered to shave that day, sprucing up his often scruffy look. There was something exciting about getting back to it, even if now, they were more or less on the side of the angels. "Ignore her. You look good," he said to Timmy.
“It’s easy to ignore her,” Timmy offered, with a small smirk, “but even easier when you’re the one complimenting me.” And then, a beat later: “No flirting with you until after the mission, I know, I know.”
“‘We can’t ignore Delia, she looks beautiful too’. ‘Yeah, she’s definitely the best looking one in our family’. Thanks so much for noticing, you’re both too kind. But correct.” She gave them both an eye roll and a smile to show she wasn’t actually upset at the lack of compliments. “Ready?”
"Everyone looks just great enough that we'll fit in but not so incredible that we'll stand out. Well done us," Asher said. "Let's hit it."
***
Delia had slipped away from the party, and from the other two so they didn’t draw suspicion by leaving the room together, and had already ruled out one possible room when Asher joined her at the display room. The locked door clicked open easily under her touch, eyes scanning the walls for the painting but instead falling on a small sculpture. “We could get so much for that,” she commented, wondering if New Asher would be on board with a side steal during the planned steal.
"Don't get distracted," Asher chided lightly. He barely glanced at the statue. He was a man on a (literal) mission, and he was not about to get sidetracked committing unnecessary crimes. "We're returning, not stealing. Look," he pointed to the opposite wall of the display room. "That's the one, isn't it?"
“I can multitask, it’s one of my many skills.” But she dragged her eyes away from the statue to look where he was pointing. “That’s it.” She stepped closer, letting herself admire the scene for a short moment. It was more stunning in person than in the photos she’d studied, but also intricate. “You can pull off the illusion, right?”
Asher nearly rolled his eyes as he glanced back at her. "Child's play." And for a moment, he began to feel like his old self. Top of his game, the best illusionist around. The intricacies of the painting were like a symphony for him. He was in his element.
And Timmy had better be doing his job keeping watch, because this was going to take a while.
***
Timmy was (trying to) keep watch, but Ethel Allen—an elderly woman who’d introduced herself and demanded a dance—was making it incredibly hard to actually keep a proper eye out.
“You really do look just like my second husband,” Ethel cooed, admiringly, “and my first husband’s only just died!”
In response, Timmy tried his best not to shudder, offering a smile and spinning Ethel as he surveyed the room subtly only to spot a guard turning down the hall that Dels and Asher had gone down. “Excuse me, I have to—”
“After the song ends, dear.”
***
"I need like, three more minutes," Asher said, finally breaking his concentration. There was a blue-green color that wasn't quite coming together the way he liked. (Was the illusion good enough to get them out? Probably, but what good was good enough?) He kept working. He almost missed the shaking of the door knob.
“Try three more seconds,” Delia said urgently, stopping the scoping of the room for anything easy to slip into her pocket that she’d been doing to entertain herself while Asher worked, mind racing for an explanation as the door clicked open.
"What are you doing in here?" a guard's voice demanded. His (frankly, unnecessary) flashlight shone right in Asher's eyes. He held up one hand to block the light while sneaking the other behind his back to weave one more quick illusion. He'd been focusing on the wrong thing. He should have been disguising the real painting to get it out, not worrying about the turquoise of the fake. This cover would not hold up to any real scrutiny.
"Just … admiring the artwork, sir!" Asher insisted. "There are some beautiful pieces in here."
It was at that moment that Timmy came in, looking between Asher and Delia. “What the fuck. You promised this shit was over,” he snarled, channeling his inner ability-to-argue-with-Delia-over-literally-anything. “You’re such a shit fucking sister, Deirdre.” And then his attention turned to Asher. “And you, did our vows mean fucking nothing?”
Asher shot a brief, beleaguered look Timmy's way, but he was game enough to play along. "It's not what you think…" He crossed the room quickly to reach Timmy, with only a glance backward at Del. She'd know what to do. "Babe. Listen to me. It's--"
The security guard was pink with embarrassment. "You … shouldn't be in here," he managed. "Or, you shouldn't be locking the--" he waved vaguely at the doorway.
Asher's look at the guard was a perfect Are you kidding me? as if the guard had revealed information about the tryst to his beloved husband. "We're sorry, sir."
“Adam,” Delia pleaded, ready to embarrass the security guard even further so he’d want to be nowhere near this situation. “You know it’s time we come clean. My brother just can’t satisfy you anymore, and I’m tired of pretending we don’t want to be together at every family dinner.”
“What the fuck,” Timmy narrowed his eyes at his sister, taking a step forward. This part was easy, he didn’t love the story the way she was painting it. “We both know there’s a reason he begged me to take him back last time. It’s not because you’re what he really wants.”
“And yet, he strayed right back to me,” Delia challenged, stepping towards Timmy, easily falling into arguing with her brother, though she at least had half an eye on the security guard, watching to make sure he was paying attention to them not the illusioned painting. “He feels obliged to his vows, but he wants me.”
“You’re a fucking mistake, Deirdre. He may have fucked you, but he loves me.”
And this conversation was getting a little too real. Asher could sense a real argument behind the facade, especially in Timmy's expression. Never work with siblings, apparently. They became children again before your very eyes. What a relief to be an only child.
He slipped nimbly between them. He turned his body and the conversation subtly, bringing the guard's attention with him and turning just enough that the illusioned piece was out of his line of sight. "Okay! Okay. We don't need to air all the dirty laundry right in front of--" he pointed vaguely at the guard. "Sir, I'm so sorry. We're just leaving. D, grab your things," he said, gesturing over behind the guard as if she needed to grab a purse, not a not-as-disguised-as-he'd-like piece of double-stolen artwork. "Thomas," he added, turning back to Timmy and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll talk about this at home. Sir!" He pivoted, pulling the guard's attention back as the man's eyes trailed on Delia. "Sir. My absolute apologies. You shouldn't have had to … I'm sorry."
“I can’t believe you’re still going home with him,” Delia huffed once she’d picked up the disguised painting, keeping it on the side furthest away from the guard’s eyeline and using her pretend hurt and annoyance as a reason to rush out of the room before the guard could get a better look at what she was holding. Now, to just get out of the party too.
***
To keep cover, Asher stuck by Timmy's side as they slipped from the party; Delia was somewhere further into the crowd with the cargo. All they needed was a quick exit.
"Everyone gather 'round!" Asher recognized their illustrious hostess, clinking her champagne glass to get the room's attention. "Good! Good. Now, we've got a wonderful, celebratory slideshow for everyone to watch." Uh oh. "Samuel, will you get the lights?"
"Oh, shit." Asher ducked behind his 'husband' as the lights clicked off and his skin suddenly emitted a nice, warm blue. Annoying as a bright iPhone in a darkened movie theater. "Shit, shit, shit." The universe had it out for him. "Get me out of here!" he hissed.
“Oh, fuck,” Timmy mumbled, taking off his jacket and tossing it over Asher’s head in a way that was—yeah, conspicuous, but also, maybe less conspicuous than literally glowing in a dark room, ushering him through the nearest door. Which, okay, wasn’t the exit. It turned out to be the kitchen, but at least it was a well-lit kitchen?
Asher, hands tucked deeply in his pockets and a jacket thrown over his head, crashed straight into a counter. His ensuing expletives were not suited to a party this fancy. But he could see light at his feet, so he scrambled to get Timmy's jacket off his head, which was, thankfully, no longer glowing. Del was well out of sight--and so was the painting.
It wasn't that Asher didn't trust Del. Well, maybe it was a little bit. But he couldn't have his work and effort going toward more criminal enterprises. Not anymore. "We need to find your sister before she decides the original owner may not be the highest bidder."
Timmy eyed Asher, considering what he’d said. The possibility had never occurred to Timmy. But then, he wasn’t a thief. “I’d kill her,” were the words of comfort he offered, peeking through the door they’d come through. “Slideshow’s still going. Think there’s a back way out?”
***
It wasn’t that Delia wanted to leave any of her team behind, but she was the one with the painting therefore her getting out was the priority. Asher would understand that, and Timmy was always mad at her for something or another anyway so what was one more thing to add to the list?
But, once she was safely out of the party with the painting, she turned her attention to finding an escape plan for the rest of her team. With the slideshow, most of the guests would be distracted in the main room, but she wasn’t sure which room they were in or where the guards were posted. Slipping around the side of the house, she paused, eyes closed, trying to picture the layout drawings she’d studied for so long. Then, hoping they’d remembered her instructions to make sure their phones were on silent, she called, a whispered “Where are you?” when the call was answered.
Unsurprisingly, Timmy had not remembered to put his phone on silent. Fortunately, outside of a drink server who’d popped into the kitchen for a new tray, no one was really there to notice. In a notably less hushed voice: “Kinda stuck until the lights come back on.”
Delia rolled her eyes. She should have called Asher. “I mean which room, idiot.”
“The bathroom, we’re fucking,” Timmy’s response was sarcastic, and irritated, and deeply unhelpful.
"The kitchen," Asher corrected quickly after snatching the phone right out of Timmy's hand. Never work with siblings! "The door out is into a very public space and this slideshow…" He leaned toward the door to try and hear anything he could; it was not promising, "...doesn't sound like it's wrapping up any time soon. And before you suggest, I've tried illusioning it away and all I can do is dull it a bit."
He tried envisioning the blueprints they'd studied together. "Wait. There's a servant's entrance to the south of the building, right? Del, can you meet us there and distract if there's any deliveries or caterers on break?"
“I’m very distracting,” Delia said as way of agreeing to the plan. “I’ll be there,” she added, heels sinking into the garden as she stepped into the direction of the servant’s entrance, a muffled ‘oh fucking hell’ just audible as she hung up the phone and slipped her shoes off. Holes throughout this perfectly manicured garden seemed like it would be considered almost as much of a crime as the theft.
The servant’s entrance was flanked by a trio of caterers taking a smoke break, options for how to distract them running through her head as she approached. Pretend she was upset and needed a moment alone in the fresh air? That would only send them inside, directly into the path of Asher and Timmy. Pretend to faint so they rushed over to her and left the door unguarded? That would only cause a scene and make her too memorable.
“There you are,” she approached them with authority, despite the shoes (and disguised painting) in her hands. “Aunty G is freaking out that half the caterers disappeared when they should be carrying the cake through the door for when the slideshow ends. If that thing gets dropped because there weren’t enough of you to carry it, someone’s getting fired.” She pulled a grimacing face, the caterers looking concerned, stubbing out their cigarettes and turning to re-enter through the servants entrance to find this cake. “If you meet the delivery guy out the front now, I’ll make sure she gives you three the biggest tips of the night,” she said quickly, gesturing towards the main entrance. “Thanks so much!” she called after them, waiting until they disappeared around the corner to pull the door open for Asher and Timmy.
A moment later, the two turned the corner to spot an open door and (thankfully) a familiar figure within it. "Perfect timing," Asher said as the three strode out into the night. He didn't love how close to a glow he was under these street lights; if it got much darker or they got much further apart, he'd start distracting drivers. They needed to get going, but he needed to clear the air about one thing first. "By the way, Deirdre? Tommy? Neither of you are enough for me."
Timmy raised an eyebrow, sliding an arm around Asher's shoulders and leaning in. "Happy to prove you wrong anytime, Ash."
Delia whacked him with her shoes, rolling her eyes. “Keep your ego in check, Timothy. It almost cost us the mission. Desperation to prove it is never convincing.”
Rolling his eyes, Timmy flipped her off.
Never. Work. With. Siblings. Asher gave another glance at the streetlights. "Alright. Let's get this thing over to lady what's-her-name before the security cameras flicker back to normal. Well done, both of you. Don't let it go to your heads."
WHEN: Friday 9 February
WHERE: Griselda Allsop's Mansion, Alpine, New Jersey
WHAT: According to Faith, her rival Griselda Allsop stole a valuable painting from her. Their job is to break into Griselda Allsop's mansion and steal it back.
WARNINGS: Theft. Sibling Bickering. Pretend Infidelity.
“Oh good, you can read instructions,” Delia greeted, eyes running up and down their outfits to assure they met the standards she’d outline for them. Though she was a fan of any reason to dress up, Delia had to admit that the current trend of formal gloves was a real help for theft related formal events, even if the shoes added a level of complexity to sneaking. “You clean up really nicely, Ash,” she appraised before turning to Timmy. “And you’re fine too, I guess.”
Asher went the traditional route -- every gentleman thief should own at least one black tux. (It bothered him that what used to be a perfect fit was a bit on the looser side. Apparently gaunt wasn't just a feeling.) He even bothered to shave that day, sprucing up his often scruffy look. There was something exciting about getting back to it, even if now, they were more or less on the side of the angels. "Ignore her. You look good," he said to Timmy.
“It’s easy to ignore her,” Timmy offered, with a small smirk, “but even easier when you’re the one complimenting me.” And then, a beat later: “No flirting with you until after the mission, I know, I know.”
“‘We can’t ignore Delia, she looks beautiful too’. ‘Yeah, she’s definitely the best looking one in our family’. Thanks so much for noticing, you’re both too kind. But correct.” She gave them both an eye roll and a smile to show she wasn’t actually upset at the lack of compliments. “Ready?”
"Everyone looks just great enough that we'll fit in but not so incredible that we'll stand out. Well done us," Asher said. "Let's hit it."
Delia had slipped away from the party, and from the other two so they didn’t draw suspicion by leaving the room together, and had already ruled out one possible room when Asher joined her at the display room. The locked door clicked open easily under her touch, eyes scanning the walls for the painting but instead falling on a small sculpture. “We could get so much for that,” she commented, wondering if New Asher would be on board with a side steal during the planned steal.
"Don't get distracted," Asher chided lightly. He barely glanced at the statue. He was a man on a (literal) mission, and he was not about to get sidetracked committing unnecessary crimes. "We're returning, not stealing. Look," he pointed to the opposite wall of the display room. "That's the one, isn't it?"
“I can multitask, it’s one of my many skills.” But she dragged her eyes away from the statue to look where he was pointing. “That’s it.” She stepped closer, letting herself admire the scene for a short moment. It was more stunning in person than in the photos she’d studied, but also intricate. “You can pull off the illusion, right?”
Asher nearly rolled his eyes as he glanced back at her. "Child's play." And for a moment, he began to feel like his old self. Top of his game, the best illusionist around. The intricacies of the painting were like a symphony for him. He was in his element.
And Timmy had better be doing his job keeping watch, because this was going to take a while.
Timmy was (trying to) keep watch, but Ethel Allen—an elderly woman who’d introduced herself and demanded a dance—was making it incredibly hard to actually keep a proper eye out.
“You really do look just like my second husband,” Ethel cooed, admiringly, “and my first husband’s only just died!”
In response, Timmy tried his best not to shudder, offering a smile and spinning Ethel as he surveyed the room subtly only to spot a guard turning down the hall that Dels and Asher had gone down. “Excuse me, I have to—”
“After the song ends, dear.”
"I need like, three more minutes," Asher said, finally breaking his concentration. There was a blue-green color that wasn't quite coming together the way he liked. (Was the illusion good enough to get them out? Probably, but what good was good enough?) He kept working. He almost missed the shaking of the door knob.
“Try three more seconds,” Delia said urgently, stopping the scoping of the room for anything easy to slip into her pocket that she’d been doing to entertain herself while Asher worked, mind racing for an explanation as the door clicked open.
"What are you doing in here?" a guard's voice demanded. His (frankly, unnecessary) flashlight shone right in Asher's eyes. He held up one hand to block the light while sneaking the other behind his back to weave one more quick illusion. He'd been focusing on the wrong thing. He should have been disguising the real painting to get it out, not worrying about the turquoise of the fake. This cover would not hold up to any real scrutiny.
"Just … admiring the artwork, sir!" Asher insisted. "There are some beautiful pieces in here."
It was at that moment that Timmy came in, looking between Asher and Delia. “What the fuck. You promised this shit was over,” he snarled, channeling his inner ability-to-argue-with-Delia-over-literally-anything. “You’re such a shit fucking sister, Deirdre.” And then his attention turned to Asher. “And you, did our vows mean fucking nothing?”
Asher shot a brief, beleaguered look Timmy's way, but he was game enough to play along. "It's not what you think…" He crossed the room quickly to reach Timmy, with only a glance backward at Del. She'd know what to do. "Babe. Listen to me. It's--"
The security guard was pink with embarrassment. "You … shouldn't be in here," he managed. "Or, you shouldn't be locking the--" he waved vaguely at the doorway.
Asher's look at the guard was a perfect Are you kidding me? as if the guard had revealed information about the tryst to his beloved husband. "We're sorry, sir."
“Adam,” Delia pleaded, ready to embarrass the security guard even further so he’d want to be nowhere near this situation. “You know it’s time we come clean. My brother just can’t satisfy you anymore, and I’m tired of pretending we don’t want to be together at every family dinner.”
“What the fuck,” Timmy narrowed his eyes at his sister, taking a step forward. This part was easy, he didn’t love the story the way she was painting it. “We both know there’s a reason he begged me to take him back last time. It’s not because you’re what he really wants.”
“And yet, he strayed right back to me,” Delia challenged, stepping towards Timmy, easily falling into arguing with her brother, though she at least had half an eye on the security guard, watching to make sure he was paying attention to them not the illusioned painting. “He feels obliged to his vows, but he wants me.”
“You’re a fucking mistake, Deirdre. He may have fucked you, but he loves me.”
And this conversation was getting a little too real. Asher could sense a real argument behind the facade, especially in Timmy's expression. Never work with siblings, apparently. They became children again before your very eyes. What a relief to be an only child.
He slipped nimbly between them. He turned his body and the conversation subtly, bringing the guard's attention with him and turning just enough that the illusioned piece was out of his line of sight. "Okay! Okay. We don't need to air all the dirty laundry right in front of--" he pointed vaguely at the guard. "Sir, I'm so sorry. We're just leaving. D, grab your things," he said, gesturing over behind the guard as if she needed to grab a purse, not a not-as-disguised-as-he'd-like piece of double-stolen artwork. "Thomas," he added, turning back to Timmy and putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll talk about this at home. Sir!" He pivoted, pulling the guard's attention back as the man's eyes trailed on Delia. "Sir. My absolute apologies. You shouldn't have had to … I'm sorry."
“I can’t believe you’re still going home with him,” Delia huffed once she’d picked up the disguised painting, keeping it on the side furthest away from the guard’s eyeline and using her pretend hurt and annoyance as a reason to rush out of the room before the guard could get a better look at what she was holding. Now, to just get out of the party too.
To keep cover, Asher stuck by Timmy's side as they slipped from the party; Delia was somewhere further into the crowd with the cargo. All they needed was a quick exit.
"Everyone gather 'round!" Asher recognized their illustrious hostess, clinking her champagne glass to get the room's attention. "Good! Good. Now, we've got a wonderful, celebratory slideshow for everyone to watch." Uh oh. "Samuel, will you get the lights?"
"Oh, shit." Asher ducked behind his 'husband' as the lights clicked off and his skin suddenly emitted a nice, warm blue. Annoying as a bright iPhone in a darkened movie theater. "Shit, shit, shit." The universe had it out for him. "Get me out of here!" he hissed.
“Oh, fuck,” Timmy mumbled, taking off his jacket and tossing it over Asher’s head in a way that was—yeah, conspicuous, but also, maybe less conspicuous than literally glowing in a dark room, ushering him through the nearest door. Which, okay, wasn’t the exit. It turned out to be the kitchen, but at least it was a well-lit kitchen?
Asher, hands tucked deeply in his pockets and a jacket thrown over his head, crashed straight into a counter. His ensuing expletives were not suited to a party this fancy. But he could see light at his feet, so he scrambled to get Timmy's jacket off his head, which was, thankfully, no longer glowing. Del was well out of sight--and so was the painting.
It wasn't that Asher didn't trust Del. Well, maybe it was a little bit. But he couldn't have his work and effort going toward more criminal enterprises. Not anymore. "We need to find your sister before she decides the original owner may not be the highest bidder."
Timmy eyed Asher, considering what he’d said. The possibility had never occurred to Timmy. But then, he wasn’t a thief. “I’d kill her,” were the words of comfort he offered, peeking through the door they’d come through. “Slideshow’s still going. Think there’s a back way out?”
It wasn’t that Delia wanted to leave any of her team behind, but she was the one with the painting therefore her getting out was the priority. Asher would understand that, and Timmy was always mad at her for something or another anyway so what was one more thing to add to the list?
But, once she was safely out of the party with the painting, she turned her attention to finding an escape plan for the rest of her team. With the slideshow, most of the guests would be distracted in the main room, but she wasn’t sure which room they were in or where the guards were posted. Slipping around the side of the house, she paused, eyes closed, trying to picture the layout drawings she’d studied for so long. Then, hoping they’d remembered her instructions to make sure their phones were on silent, she called, a whispered “Where are you?” when the call was answered.
Unsurprisingly, Timmy had not remembered to put his phone on silent. Fortunately, outside of a drink server who’d popped into the kitchen for a new tray, no one was really there to notice. In a notably less hushed voice: “Kinda stuck until the lights come back on.”
Delia rolled her eyes. She should have called Asher. “I mean which room, idiot.”
“The bathroom, we’re fucking,” Timmy’s response was sarcastic, and irritated, and deeply unhelpful.
"The kitchen," Asher corrected quickly after snatching the phone right out of Timmy's hand. Never work with siblings! "The door out is into a very public space and this slideshow…" He leaned toward the door to try and hear anything he could; it was not promising, "...doesn't sound like it's wrapping up any time soon. And before you suggest, I've tried illusioning it away and all I can do is dull it a bit."
He tried envisioning the blueprints they'd studied together. "Wait. There's a servant's entrance to the south of the building, right? Del, can you meet us there and distract if there's any deliveries or caterers on break?"
“I’m very distracting,” Delia said as way of agreeing to the plan. “I’ll be there,” she added, heels sinking into the garden as she stepped into the direction of the servant’s entrance, a muffled ‘oh fucking hell’ just audible as she hung up the phone and slipped her shoes off. Holes throughout this perfectly manicured garden seemed like it would be considered almost as much of a crime as the theft.
The servant’s entrance was flanked by a trio of caterers taking a smoke break, options for how to distract them running through her head as she approached. Pretend she was upset and needed a moment alone in the fresh air? That would only send them inside, directly into the path of Asher and Timmy. Pretend to faint so they rushed over to her and left the door unguarded? That would only cause a scene and make her too memorable.
“There you are,” she approached them with authority, despite the shoes (and disguised painting) in her hands. “Aunty G is freaking out that half the caterers disappeared when they should be carrying the cake through the door for when the slideshow ends. If that thing gets dropped because there weren’t enough of you to carry it, someone’s getting fired.” She pulled a grimacing face, the caterers looking concerned, stubbing out their cigarettes and turning to re-enter through the servants entrance to find this cake. “If you meet the delivery guy out the front now, I’ll make sure she gives you three the biggest tips of the night,” she said quickly, gesturing towards the main entrance. “Thanks so much!” she called after them, waiting until they disappeared around the corner to pull the door open for Asher and Timmy.
A moment later, the two turned the corner to spot an open door and (thankfully) a familiar figure within it. "Perfect timing," Asher said as the three strode out into the night. He didn't love how close to a glow he was under these street lights; if it got much darker or they got much further apart, he'd start distracting drivers. They needed to get going, but he needed to clear the air about one thing first. "By the way, Deirdre? Tommy? Neither of you are enough for me."
Timmy raised an eyebrow, sliding an arm around Asher's shoulders and leaning in. "Happy to prove you wrong anytime, Ash."
Delia whacked him with her shoes, rolling her eyes. “Keep your ego in check, Timothy. It almost cost us the mission. Desperation to prove it is never convincing.”
Rolling his eyes, Timmy flipped her off.
Never. Work. With. Siblings. Asher gave another glance at the streetlights. "Alright. Let's get this thing over to lady what's-her-name before the security cameras flicker back to normal. Well done, both of you. Don't let it go to your heads."
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