"What?"
"I don't get it."
"I think," said Carmichael, "that what he's trying to say is that the metaphor is...less clear than you think it is."
"Uh, yeah. I don't know what the hands do."
"I hope they don't do anything to the balls," murmured Gibson. The Four Wise Men snickered curtly.
"You work at the museum, yes?" Behringer stubbornly ignored them.
"Yeah."
"I need you to help us...remove something from inside."
"You want me to help you break in and steal something? What if I don't help you?"
"Do you really have to ask?"
"Um...yeah."
Behringer slumped exasperatedly in his chair. "If you won't help us we'll kill you. Idiot."
"You're all very extreme."
"Hells yes we are," said Gibson.
"Okay, what do you want to steal?"
"I understand you will soon be exhibiting a certain diamond."
Ezra glanced up uncertainly. "The Pharaoh's Glory?"
"Yes," said Behringer, eyes shining hungrily.
"Alright," said Ezra. His face split into a broad smile. "I can definitely help you with that."
***TO BE CONTINUED***
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