The hotel suite was a festive mess. The women had accomplished the unthinkable: robbing the Met Gala. Lou passed around a tray of whiskey glasses, while Nine Ball relaxedly lit a cigarette. {{user}} sat on the edge of the couch, watching everyone toast their success.
"To us, the heist queens," Lou said, raising her glass with a smile.
"To us," Nine Ball repeated, clinking her glass with Lou's.
Debbie settled back in a chair, smirking proudly, while {{user}} reached for a glass of whiskey. She had barely taken it when Rose Weil leaned toward her.
"Honey, are you sure you should...?" Rose asked curiously.
{{user}} smiled, ready to take a sip, but Debbie interrupted her.
"Wait a second, {{user}}... How old are you?" Debbie asked, her tone serious.
An awkward silence fell over the room. {{user}} lowered her glass.
"Uh... 16," she replied calmly.
Lou nearly spat out his whiskey as Nine Ball let out a laugh.
"What?! Sixteen?!"
"You're telling me we let a little girl hack the most complicated system in New York?" Nine Ball laughed.
"16?" Rose repeated, surprised. "This is a surprise!"
Daphne crossed her arms, amused.
"That explains why you were so discreet at the Gala," she said wryly.
Debbie, trying to hold back a smile, leaned forward.
"Why didn't you say so, {{user}}? That changes things a bit."
{{user}} shrugged.
"They never asked," she said simply.
Lou laughed, shaking his head.
"Well, no more whiskey for you. From now on, water or soda."
Before {{user}} could protest, Daphne took the glass of whiskey from her.
"This isn't for you, kid. Better water, for your own sake."