The door opens into a fairly swanky hotel room, somewhere on the Las Vegas strip. It looks like a suite, with a den area and several bathrooms, as well as a door that may lead to a kitchenette
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"Tradition is not something to be trifled with, Riley. Your next team is coming in soon, be ready for them. I will be out of touch while I fetch them from Milliways, so no emergencies."
There's the sound of a door opening and shutting.
"And tell them on the floor to step it up. Time to be distracting." The phone clicks off.
"Hmmm." Laini shrugs, with a bemused smile, and hits the 'yes' button to confirm the upload.
(The janitors and repair guys might come to the decision that the sinks and toilets are possessed- specially if they ever realize the song the water-works is syncing to is 'Bad Moon Rising'.)
"Distracting, distracting..." She glances over at Riley, grinning. "Time to cause some headaches and ulcers. Wanna give the casino computer techs a fun time?"
"God," says Riley around the pencil in his teeth, grinning. "I was born ready for this."
He reaches up and taps his headset, with a glance at the laptop for the frequency. "Hi there, gang, you are good to go on creating maximum chaos without getting security suspicious or yourselves caught."
He studies the security camera footage of the slot machines, for a moment, and -- there. An elderly woman sitting at a machine, feeding coins and pulling the lever as if she were a machine herself; she's been at it ever since Riley and Laini got in position. A couple of taps of Riley's keyboard, and then -- the Niagara Falls of coins opens up at that slot machine.
The woman sits and stares for a long second, bug-eyed, and then she throws her cane up and starts screaming.
'You?' says the smug, pleased look that Riley shoots Laini's way.
Laini grins back at him, then turns to study some of the screens.
"Y'know? We're not actually here to rob the place. Well- none of our groups is. So if we make them think someone is... I've found, if you give people something to actually find, they stop looking for anything else."
She folds her hands together and stretches out her fingers, ala a pianist getting ready to perform.
"Care to make any bets about how much we can transfer out by the time this is all over?"
So if a few of the machines seem to be working a little too well-- or, indeed, seem to shoot straight to the jackpot as he walks by, pelting innocent bystanders with a sudden stream of coins and sending staff scurrying to locate the cause of the malfunction ...
All we're saying is you shouldn't be too surprised.
Puck, sniggering softly, keeps close by Havelock (he so wants a mojito from that conveniently appearing waiter) but not too close.
A little minor chaos to kick off the evening seems like the way to go.
*Except in cases of sparkly STDs, Endless pregnancies, malevolent forces who have sex with him, and the many unpleasant applications of iron.
Presumably because he's been... encouraged to be so by Havelock, who considers discreet bribery something of an art form. He has taken a very dry martini - of which Lilly, who introduced him to them, would likely approve - but isn't touching it - which she definitely wouldn't.
He looks at the malfunctioning machines with an arrogant sneer and an amused quirk of the eyebrow. It's a complex expression.
"My. If this continues we will simply have to complain to the management," he says in disgust, and to the consternation of a couple of nearby staff.
The narration regrets to inform you, gentle reader, that Puck has been temporarily rendered so speechless by the hotness of Havelock's most recent comment that he will scooping his jaw off the floor for the next several tags.
(In the background, another machine strikes jackpot, and promptly begins to gush champagne.)
A pause. He grabs a stray mojito from the waiter (now looking a little dismayed at the prospect of losing such a fabulous tipper) and starts to sip it as if it is his only line of oxygen.
"Absolutely," he concludes, with great conviction.
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That is either a very professional secretary voice, or the 'sexy librarian' version of a phone sex operator. Take your pick.
Meanwhile, Laini is downloading the Bellagio's program that operates the fountains for the performance in front of their casino.
She thinks it might be amusing to load into the system that runs the automated plumbing in the Babylon.
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"Are you sure I can't talk you into something more modern?"
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There's the sound of a door opening and shutting.
"And tell them on the floor to step it up. Time to be distracting." The phone clicks off.
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(The janitors and repair guys might come to the decision that the sinks and toilets are possessed- specially if they ever realize the song the water-works is syncing to is 'Bad Moon Rising'.)
"Distracting, distracting..." She glances over at Riley, grinning. "Time to cause some headaches and ulcers. Wanna give the casino computer techs a fun time?"
Reply
He reaches up and taps his headset, with a glance at the laptop for the frequency. "Hi there, gang, you are good to go on creating maximum chaos without getting security suspicious or yourselves caught."
He studies the security camera footage of the slot machines, for a moment, and -- there. An elderly woman sitting at a machine, feeding coins and pulling the lever as if she were a machine herself; she's been at it ever since Riley and Laini got in position. A couple of taps of Riley's keyboard, and then -- the Niagara Falls of coins opens up at that slot machine.
The woman sits and stares for a long second, bug-eyed, and then she throws her cane up and starts screaming.
'You?' says the smug, pleased look that Riley shoots Laini's way.
Reply
"Y'know? We're not actually here to rob the place. Well- none of our groups is. So if we make them think someone is... I've found, if you give people something to actually find, they stop looking for anything else."
She folds her hands together and stretches out her fingers, ala a pianist getting ready to perform.
"Care to make any bets about how much we can transfer out by the time this is all over?"
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(Purely for effect.)
"Let's. Get. Dangerous."
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Puck is very, very lucky.*
So if a few of the machines seem to be working a little too well-- or, indeed, seem to shoot straight to the jackpot as he walks by, pelting innocent bystanders with a sudden stream of coins and sending staff scurrying to locate the cause of the malfunction ...
All we're saying is you shouldn't be too surprised.
Puck, sniggering softly, keeps close by Havelock (he so wants a mojito from that conveniently appearing waiter) but not too close.
A little minor chaos to kick off the evening seems like the way to go.
*Except in cases of sparkly STDs, Endless pregnancies, malevolent forces who have sex with him, and the many unpleasant applications of iron.
Nobody bats a thousand.
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Presumably because he's been... encouraged to be so by Havelock, who considers discreet bribery something of an art form. He has taken a very dry martini - of which Lilly, who introduced him to them, would likely approve - but isn't touching it - which she definitely wouldn't.
He looks at the malfunctioning machines with an arrogant sneer and an amused quirk of the eyebrow. It's a complex expression.
"My. If this continues we will simply have to complain to the management," he says in disgust, and to the consternation of a couple of nearby staff.
Reply
The narration regrets to inform you, gentle reader, that Puck has been temporarily rendered so speechless by the hotness of Havelock's most recent comment that he will scooping his jaw off the floor for the next several tags.
(In the background, another machine strikes jackpot, and promptly begins to gush champagne.)
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"I know the Selachii party are planning to move on to Venice a fortnight early, and I may well do the same, at this rate. What do you say?"
That's your cue, Puck!
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Puck coughs, politely.
"I ..."
A pause. He grabs a stray mojito from the waiter (now looking a little dismayed at the prospect of losing such a fabulous tipper) and starts to sip it as if it is his only line of oxygen.
"Absolutely," he concludes, with great conviction.
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To the assassin-mobile!
...Or to a quieter room a little way away, to give the nervous staff time to spread rumours of angry - and more importantly, rich - patrons.
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