Author's Note: This opener created for the Caesar's Palace Rainbow History Month Challenge. Probably never going to be a complete job, but maybe someday.

The current job had taken the team several hours southwest to a nightclub in Pennsylvania. It was exactly the kind of place you picture when you think nightclub: throbbing, repetitive music, changing lights that bathed them alternatively in slime green, deep blue, or cherry red, and smokiness created by fog machines.

Parker was already swaying to the beat, and Nate's gaze strayed to the trays with glowing liquids and ridiculous straws. Hardison got busy gawking the scantily-clad woman bearing the trays.

Sophie spoke up first, "I'm too old for this. And not properly dressed."

"Are we sure the mark's even in here?" added Hardison. "Doesn't really seem like his kind of place."

Nate snapped to attention, and shook his head. "It's a solid meeting place. Enough noise and chaos to avoid eavesdroppers, and abundant, rapid cash flow to help scrub the embezzled funds. He's here, somewhere."

Parker raised her hand.

Nate nodded at her.

Parker bounced on her heels. "How do we find this?"

"Good question," muttered Nate, glancing at Eliot, who was unbuttoning his shirt?

The younger man held out his right hand outstretched toward Hardison, while his left hand untied his bandana. "I have a plan. Hardison we need to change shirts."

"I am not gonna give you my shirt, man. I like this shirt. It's a quality garment."

"Hardison," Eliot growled, and nailed the hacker with bundled fabric. With a huff, Hardison complied and sadly agreed the hitter looked better in the metallic gray polo. Eliot skipped the top two buttons, flipped down the top collar, and half-cuffed the sleeves. It was hard to tell it didn't fit him perfectly now.

"Nate, still got the tacky watch?"

The mastermind made a face, but otherwise handed over the piece of chunky gold jewelry. Eliot strapped it on. "Give me twenty minutes," declared the hitter before slinking over into the pulsating crowd.

Eliot returned, fourteen minutes later by Sophie's estimate, with a girl wrapped around his arm. "Mrs. Baker," Eliot spoke with reserved composure, as he joined Sophie at a table. "My new friend here would be happy to introduce you to Mr. Paxton."

Sophie took the young woman with her, and Eliot used a half finished drink to scrub traces of lipstick off his cheeks. He raised the glass to his lips and switched on his earbud. "We're in, Sophie's meeting with Paxton now." Eliot set the drink back down and started his way back to the rest of the team.

Hardison still looked annoyed. Eliot wondered if his face had frozen that way. Nate had procured a drink, no surprise there. "What?"

"Why do none of my grifts involve making out with a pretty girl?" grumbled Hardison.

"Three," corrected Eliot. "Three pretty women. And-"

Hardison seized Eliot's palm, glaring at the scrawled number. "And is Taylor the blond you dragged back to Sophie?"

"No. He's just taking me to dinner. If we're done here that is?"

Nate waved him off. "Be my guest. It's late anyway, we'll regroup in the morning."

Eliot had already started walking off before Hardison noticed. "Eliot, wait. Eliot, my shirt. You better not get some strange man all over my shirt." The hacker was stopped short, by a hand clapped over his shoulder. He spun to face a jealous Parker.

"You want to be kissing other girls for cover?"

Nate backed away. "Don't kill him, Parker."