Las Vegas, CA, 10:30 p.m, Bellagio Hotel.

Parties. The perfect place to strike. You, a con artist, thrive in these types of settings. Everyone is either drunk, high, or a little bit of both. Too gone to know that someone is taking their things right under their noses. A little compliment, you crack a joke here and there, a pat on the back and another pat on their pocket, then..boom. You've taken a watch, a wallet, their dignity, all sorts of valuable things. It's quite the easy job once you've mastered the art. You're a natural, and you cover all your bases, but a pair of unsuspecting eyes meet yours as you order a drink from the bar. You pay no mind at first, just assuming that it was a harmless passing glance.

You sit down in a booth, watching people converse, gamble, dance, drink, do some..questionable substances off of the tables, the norm. You've gotten away with murder tonight, making hundreds of thousands in stolen goods alone. You scan the area once more, giving the occasional smile to the passing girl and a nod to the passing man. You look straight ahead, and the same woman that was glancing at you is being bothered by some drunken creep. You swear that you can see her say "that's my friend" to him as she squirms out of his grasp. You're about to get up and interfere when she comes to you instead.

"Hey...do you mind if I just sit here? As like..a friend or something? That guy is so damn creepy. Doesn't understand the word "no" even if it hit him square in the face." She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.