Elliot Morgan sat outside of Sant Ambroeus sipping his coffee and watching the people around his table. He was observing, doing research for his next heist, trying to pick one of the poor schmucks here to lift personal effects from. Saturdays were always recon days.

Mozzie was to meet him shortly to discuss his options. Elliot was trying to decide what painting he was going to snag from The Met. "More coffee, sir?" the server interrupted his thoughts, he was standing by his table, silver pot of coffee in hand with a handkerchief draped elegantly over his forearm. His red top looked pristine and his black slacks fit just right. He was the spitting image of a perfect server.

"Y-yes." Elliot stuttered. Mentally he kicked himself. It was a tick he had since childhood. The server topped off his coffee and then disappeared as quickly as he came. Elliott went back to watching the people and scoping out his target. Out the corner of his eye, he recognized a familiar face. Amber. Amber was the one person in the world that made him feel good about himself. The two of them grew up in similar situations and he felt a kinship with her that he felt with no one else.

Elliott and Amber grew up in orphanages due to abusive parents. Neither of them had other family members to take them in. It's as if their kindred spirits were destined to meet. Amber aged out of the system at eighteen while Elliott gathered his few items, stole the $146.83 of petty cash Mrs. Nettles kept in the cookie jar and hitchhiked to NYC. He had read all about it and knew it was a place that would fulfill many of his wishes.

Elliott stood up from his table, "Amber!" he called and waved his hand.

"Elliott!" she called back and waved to him. Her arms were full of shopping bags. Apparently, she had just fenced the item from their last heist together. They were supposed to split the take; Elliott had let her keep it even though she had lifted it from him. He had a soft spot in his heart for Amber and she often took advantage of that.

Amber made her way over to his table and plopped down in the black iron chair across from Elliott. "How are you?" her face was a beam as she spread her napkin across her tiny lap. Although Amber ate a ton, she never gained any weight from it. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed down over her back and was held back from the breeze that was blowing only by her sunglasses.

"I'm good. Just doing some research. I see that you're doing well." Elliott gestured to her shopping bags with a crooked smile.

"My wardrobe needed a makeover," Amber smiled and fluttered her lashes. "I'm hungry. Where's the server?" She looked over her shoulder trying to find someone to alert for their service. The same server that had given Elliott a refill on his coffee came rushing to help the pretty lady.

"What can I get for you, ma'am?" The server beamed with his notepad and pen in hand waiting to fulfill Amber's wish.

"Let me get a mimosa and the avocado toast. Light on the poach for the eggs. With a side of bacon." Amber rattled off her menu choices and handed it back to the server.

"Yes, ma'am," the server replied and disappeared.

Amber munched on a breadstick while she waited for her brunch. "So, what are you up to?" she pointed the breadstick towards Elliott.

"I'm waiting for Mozzie to show up, "Elliott sipped from his coffee. "We're doing recon today. Deciding on what The Met has to offer."

The two continued with their small talk until Mozzie arrived. He was older by at least five or six years. He had premature balding, so he did himself the favor of shaving his head. On this particular day, he wore shades to shield his eyes from the bright Spring sun. Mozzie carried a satchel of worn brown leather, inside his contents of the plan he had for Elliott.

Mozzie had taken Elliott under his wing. They met during his short time working at the Museum of Modern Art. Elliott had sticky fingers and Mozzie always caught him before security did. After some grooming, Elliott and Mozzie stole a Van Gogh worth $53.9 Million. That was the heist that popped Elliott's stealing cherry.

Mozzie slumped down at the table and threw his satchel carelessly at Elliott, "Merry Christmas! In July!"

Elliott opened the satchel and pulled the plans from the bag. "M-Mozzie yo-you're k-kidding." Getting excited made Elliott stutter.

"It's time you pull a James Allen Faraday," Mozzie pulled off his sunglasses. "He's the only one of your aliases that can pull this off."

Elliott had a gleaming smile on his face as he looked at his best friend. "If you don't get caught, you deserve everything you steal." Elliott quoted Daniel Nayeri.

"The objective, my friend, is to not get caught." Mozzie plucked one of the pieces of bacon from Amber's plate and savored the maple flavor.

"Hey! That was mine," Amber pouted her lips and crossed her arms like a sad little girl. She quickly ate the remainder of her bacon and popped out of her seat. Amber tolerated Mozzie but he was not her favorite person.

"I have better things to do on my Saturday. Pay the tab, will you, Elliott?"

Elliott was lost in another world and quickly nodded to dismiss Amber and get back to the topic at hand.

"The H-Hope Dia-diamond!" Elliott exclaimed.

"Shhh!" Mozzie signaled for him to lower his voice. He didn't want any of the people to overhear what they were planning. "Word from a reliable source says it's going to be on display at The Met. But only for a week and they aren't announcing it because of all the unwanted attention."

"W-we h-have to m-move qui-quickly," Elliott observed.