The door Coyote opens leads to a brightly lit section of the strip. You can barely tell it's getting late in the evening, the sky is practically blotted out by blinding fluorescents
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Liz has never been to Las Vegas. She's been to Death Valley, though, and the sudden switch to dry-as-hell heat is familiar.
Her eyes flick to the left and then to the right as Coyote explains, but only briefly; mostly to take in their surroundings and see if anybody noticed six well-dressed individuals stepping onto the sidewalk out of thin air. (If anybody notices, they're not looking any closer. Vegas, baby.) Liz is listening.
And, at the end, shooting Coyote a wry look, eyes narrowed. What exactly, one has to wonder, would qualify as an emergency in this case?
If Liz is wondering it, she doesn't do so out loud.
There is no Vegas in Joris' world- or in any of the others he has been to. But a city is a city, and if its a bit louder and certainly much more brighter than any others he has seen, well, the people walking down the Strip look to be the same.
His shrug has less to do with Coyote's instructions than to check to make sure everything is settled and where it should be, and Joris' right hand carefully straightens his left cuff. He glances at Coyote with a nod, then looks carefully at the others.
"Not much more than I have already told you," Coyote says. "It will be big. It will certainly be in disguise, possibly having corrupted and possessed a body. It will also have human minions." Her smile is tight.
"If you think you can release them from its control, feel free to try. I fear it is unlikely."
She hands Sam an envelope. "That is your ticket in. Show it to security, they will let you enter with no problems. Make sure you get it back." The paper inside is blank, until you look at it. Then it proclaims that this motley group is in the employ of the big boss, and to let them inside without being searched. (Thank you, Ace.)
"Just remember. You are in the band. You have the right to enter. That will do the rest."
"And us," says a sudden male voice over the earpieces. "We'll do the other rest."
Drawled: "Hi, I'm Riley and this is Laini. We're your friendly neighborhood facilitators, here to make incredibly illegal things happen when you need us.
"Please keep your arms and legs inside the weird supernatural heist at all times."
Coyote pauses. "No. Not if you are not counting yourselves and me. But you are heading for the high-rollers' rooms. Ignore anything that you might sense outside of there. There may be people...or things that are none of our business here."
She reaches into the bag at her side. "And speaking of business, here." She pulls out a few hundred dollar bills and passes them around. "For camouflage, should you need it. Once you are inside, give the paper to Joris. He may need it to head off any awkward questions about his age."
Liz turned away momentarily and tucked the money into her bra. It was the most practical solution to the no-pockets issue, and also has the added bonus that it will be very distracting if they get into a tough spot and need to bribe somebody.
She has turned back by the time that Artemis is saying something about camouflage. Her glance at the Winchesters -- and then longer, steadier look at Coyote -- suggests that she shares their skepticism.
Still, she's here. She's in a dress. She's ready to go, and she'll deal. Maybe while keeping an eye on Coyote as much as possible, but she'll deal.
"Do we have any kind of a time limit here?" she asks.
Her eyes flick to the left and then to the right as Coyote explains, but only briefly; mostly to take in their surroundings and see if anybody noticed six well-dressed individuals stepping onto the sidewalk out of thin air. (If anybody notices, they're not looking any closer. Vegas, baby.) Liz is listening.
And, at the end, shooting Coyote a wry look, eyes narrowed. What exactly, one has to wonder, would qualify as an emergency in this case?
If Liz is wondering it, she doesn't do so out loud.
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His shrug has less to do with Coyote's instructions than to check to make sure everything is settled and where it should be, and Joris' right hand carefully straightens his left cuff. He glances at Coyote with a nod, then looks carefully at the others.
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If Dean sounds a little grumpy, it's because the suit itches.
And the fucking bowtie is ridiculous.
Goddammit.
On the up side, they're gonna get to kick some supernatural ass, and Artemis and Liz are both pretty easy on the eyes.
So there's that.
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"Suck it up, dude."
Sam glances at the casino, then back at Coyote.
"That place looks like it's got more than cheap security. You sure we're gonna clear through okay?"
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"And any other thoughts about what it is we're hunting in there?"
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"If you think you can release them from its control, feel free to try. I fear it is unlikely."
She hands Sam an envelope. "That is your ticket in. Show it to security, they will let you enter with no problems. Make sure you get it back." The paper inside is blank, until you look at it. Then it proclaims that this motley group is in the employ of the big boss, and to let them inside without being searched. (Thank you, Ace.)
"Just remember. You are in the band. You have the right to enter. That will do the rest."
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Drawled: "Hi, I'm Riley and this is Laini. We're your friendly neighborhood facilitators, here to make incredibly illegal things happen when you need us.
"Please keep your arms and legs inside the weird supernatural heist at all times."
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"And be sure to tip your waiter- we're here all week."
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She was listening to Coyote; Jedi mind tricks, a bunch of normals for minions, and the big bad in some poor schmuck's body. Again: great.
More to herself than at any of her companions, Liz mutters, "I hate possessions."
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"But there shouldn't be anything else around here that's not a demon, or... or however you'd call it, that we have to watch out for?"
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She reaches into the bag at her side. "And speaking of business, here." She pulls out a few hundred dollar bills and passes them around. "For camouflage, should you need it. Once you are inside, give the paper to Joris. He may need it to head off any awkward questions about his age."
At least he's taller than Liz!
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Artemis folds up her share of the cash and promptly remembers her own lack of pockets; after a moment, she shoves it inside one of her shoes.
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He and Sam exchange a quick look, reading each other easy as pie.
Like that shit's never come back to bite anyone on the ass before.
Sure.
And if you buy that they've got this bridge for sale --
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She has turned back by the time that Artemis is saying something about camouflage. Her glance at the Winchesters -- and then longer, steadier look at Coyote -- suggests that she shares their skepticism.
Still, she's here. She's in a dress. She's ready to go, and she'll deal. Maybe while keeping an eye on Coyote as much as possible, but she'll deal.
"Do we have any kind of a time limit here?" she asks.
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If this was back home, they would not have to sneak in past guards and peacekeepers, but at least that paper should take care of it-
Joris blinks.
"What about my age?"
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"Just tell anybody who asks that he's this amazing boy-soprano who's performing with you, and he's not speaking to conserve his voice."
Which implies certain things about Joris. Sorry, Joris.
Riley sounds all too amused.
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