[b]Team-Bondi:[/b]

“As long as you’re both good with kids.” Bondi says with absolute earnestness as she untangles herself the rest of the way, limb by limb. She sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth and concentrates as she rambles. “They don’t [i]really [/i]believe. Like, they know magic isn’t real, they just want to believe for pretend. You have-to have-to make absolutely sure they don’t feel like you’re playing a trick [i]on [/i]them, or like anyone is going to make them feel stupid over it, so they’re safe to pretend. Which is harder than you think, when you’re also trying to confuse them at the same time! People make fun of you for believing in things, and that’s-” 

She lets out a yelp as she unravels like a yoyo from her last maneuver, spinning to the floor. She bounces up and brushes herself off, massaging her joints. “Wow! Okay, that was a lot of fun. Tie me up again! Except this time I want it on camera, so I can see how I look. I know I can do it now, I just have to figure out a way to [i]look [/i]good doing it. And selfies! For us! Because I’m having fun. Oh! Oh! And, uh… no I forgot the other thing. Sorry! I’m just so excited!” 

[b]Heist:[/b]

The set list and the prop list for the magic act had to be sent in advance, much to Bondi’s chagrin as an ab-libber who abhors 'routine' in all its forms. The magicians’ cases are packed. You’ll be waved through to a side entrance, and everything will be searched to make sure the props match the approved setlist. 

Your plan does involve coming to a secure location with ropes, knives, handcuffs, large containers with false bottoms and smokebombs, and everyone being cool with that.  

It’s just, yeah, the compromise on them being cool with it is having to check all that in - [i]carefully[/i] - and that means Orange is definitely being caught in the inspection. How do you talk your way out of it? 

(This was a decision, which means it’s a prompt not a challenge. You succeed here, no risk of failure or of Green being found. I’m being vague on details to give you room to breathe an atmosphere, since this operation could go anywhere on the drama-comedy spectrum.)

[b]Sophie:[/b]

Sophie roundhouse kicks a steel cupboard hard enough to put a tennis-ball-shaped dent in it. Its door pops open and won’t close properly again. There is no way that didn’t hurt like hell. 

“Shit like this!” she says, “It’s always shit like this!” She goes for a second kick with the same foot, and it looks like doubling down on the injury hurts enough to snap her out of the rage spiral she was about to go on. She slides down to the floor, nursing her foot.

Uh?

“Thanks for being here today, Red.” She breathes. “It’s been hard to find people who can do this, who I can stand to do this with. I go a few weeks thinking I’m better off on my own, and then something like this happens and I remember why that’s shithouse. Not like I can put this up on Headpattr.” She bangs the back of her head against the broken cupboard, [i]clong[/i]. 

Didn’t she say she had guys that helped with Rudy? Well, yeah. [i]Outside[/i] work. Not in the same room together work. 

“Maybe injecting this guy with a barrel of Evenamide directly into the carotid artery will make me feel better. Soon as my foot stops hurting. Can you start moving our shit over to Max Stats Mandy, here?”