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.
"Be nice, Riley. He is only seven years too young to be in a casino. Besides, you will be picking up these kind people after they have finished their task."
She nods at Liz. "You will have some time to look around, as you make your way to the rooms you need to be near. But not much. Do your scouting quickly. We will give you a signal when your target is near by, and it is all clear. When you are done, inform Laini and Riley, they will meet you at whatever exit you deem appropriate." Even if it is a hole in the casino wall.
Even the entrance hall of the Babylon Casino is glitzy. This isn't a tourist trap spot, with forty-somethings in fanny packs playing video poker until their eyes bleed. It's either a fancy night out on the town, or for people willing to drop some serious cash.
There is a small gathering of very well dressed people trickling in, being assiduously checked by the organized security detail. There are several lines, and a metal detector.
However, there is also a door in that doesn't have one in front of it. Looks to be for either employees, or VIPs. Try your luck.
She remembers everything 'Dite ever tried to teach her and narrows that down to everything she cared to retain. She lifts her chin (do I look like you should stand in my way) and heads for the second door.
They're an interesting, good-looking group, enough so that they're drawing some glances as they cross the glitzy entrance hall.
For the record, Liz still really hates having people actually notice her, much less stare.
She keeps her eyes on the door, she keeps her head up and shoulders back, and she does her best to not look like she just bit into one of Abe's rotten eggs. She's mostly successful. The nice thing about being by far the shortest in a group (with even Joris a few inches taller): it's easy to let other people block you.
"Break a leg would have been a little more traditional," Liz mutters, really wishing she could wear a gun in a visible place.
Joris just keeps trying to tell himself to forget that he is not wearing his usual white uniform, because normally, if this were happening on his own world? He and Konstam would be walking in as if they belonged there and everything was Just Fine.
That should work up to a point-
And hopefully that paper Coyote gave them will do the rest.
But at least for the moment, no one seems to be noticing the young teen there with the rest of the group.
Sam trades a look with Dean and moves up toward the front of their small group as they approach the door.
Visible security like that detector or not, he'd be willing to place his first bet that there's security of some sort around -- probably hidden cameras, at the very least.
Sam is apparently correct. As they approach it, the door opens, and a man steps out to bar their path. He's dressed a little different from the security staff at the other door.
"Can I help you?" he asks in a way that suggests he is pretty sure he can't, and doesn't want to.
Lucky for him, the security guy doesn't catch any of that. He takes the envelope and opens it up. He scans the paper briefly, eyebrows raising high on his head.
"Sorry," he tells them, handing the paper back to Sam. "My boss didn't mention that your boss was having special guests tonight. You know how good they are at cooperating when it doesn't involve money."
He doesn't smile or anything, but his manner is far more polite when he opens the door for them.
Liz scowls at Dean's back (he happens to be standing in front of her) when the woman makes the remarks over the earpieces; the dumb comments are not helpful.
The security guard catches Liz's eye as she walks through the door with the rest of the "band," and she swiftly backpedals to school her expression into something less inexplicably irritated, and more disdainful and bored. Yeah, sure, whatever, says her face, despite the fact that she has no idea what she's nonverbally agreeing to. What bosses? Who's their boss? Just what the hell does that piece of paper say
( ... )
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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She nods at Liz. "You will have some time to look around, as you make your way to the rooms you need to be near. But not much. Do your scouting quickly. We will give you a signal when your target is near by, and it is all clear. When you are done, inform Laini and Riley, they will meet you at whatever exit you deem appropriate." Even if it is a hole in the casino wall.
"Good luck."
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There is a small gathering of very well dressed people trickling in, being assiduously checked by the organized security detail. There are several lines, and a metal detector.
However, there is also a door in that doesn't have one in front of it. Looks to be for either employees, or VIPs. Try your luck.
You are in Vegas, after all.
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Coyote wishing you luck's gotta be one of the signs of the Apocalypse.
Or --
Anyway.
"Let's get this show on the road."
Or at least through the door without metal detectors.
Dean believes in starting small.
Right.
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Artemis adjusts her grip on the guitar case.
"Come on, guys--we belong here, remember?"
She remembers everything 'Dite ever tried to teach her and narrows that down to everything she cared to retain. She lifts her chin (do I look like you should stand in my way) and heads for the second door.
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For the record, Liz still really hates having people actually notice her, much less stare.
She keeps her eyes on the door, she keeps her head up and shoulders back, and she does her best to not look like she just bit into one of Abe's rotten eggs. She's mostly successful. The nice thing about being by far the shortest in a group (with even Joris a few inches taller): it's easy to let other people block you.
"Break a leg would have been a little more traditional," Liz mutters, really wishing she could wear a gun in a visible place.
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That should work up to a point-
And hopefully that paper Coyote gave them will do the rest.
But at least for the moment, no one seems to be noticing the young teen there with the rest of the group.
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Visible security like that detector or not, he'd be willing to place his first bet that there's security of some sort around -- probably hidden cameras, at the very least.
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"Can I help you?" he asks in a way that suggests he is pretty sure he can't, and doesn't want to.
No one else takes any notice.
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"You can help by letting us in. We're late."
Her tone suggests that their lateness is his fault, or at the very least, someone higher up the food chain will blame him for it.
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Everything about his stance and expression manages to convey an absolute certainty that there won't be a problem.
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The lapels that he is very carefully removing any lingering specks of dust or lint from.
Because he is thorough and meticulous like that.
And pretty. Don't forget the pretty.
Even the eyeroll isn't gonna detract much from that. Go figure.
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How Laini manages that much innuendo with tone alone and without any visual cues, the world may never know.
"Maybe you should have put that envelope inside your shirt- a little more distraction never hurt anyone."
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"Sorry," he tells them, handing the paper back to Sam. "My boss didn't mention that your boss was having special guests tonight. You know how good they are at cooperating when it doesn't involve money."
He doesn't smile or anything, but his manner is far more polite when he opens the door for them.
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The security guard catches Liz's eye as she walks through the door with the rest of the "band," and she swiftly backpedals to school her expression into something less inexplicably irritated, and more disdainful and bored. Yeah, sure, whatever, says her face, despite the fact that she has no idea what she's nonverbally agreeing to. What bosses? Who's their boss? Just what the hell does that piece of paper say ( ... )
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Tell you one thing, it ain't the thought of gambling that's got that spark running through his veins.
Fuck no.
Now -- if he were a big nasty hiding inside the body of a little ol' human being, where would he be?
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