Trip did a little spin in the middle of the suite and Skye gave a polite clap at his attire.

"Ugh. Tweed," Fitz and Jemma said in unison.

"Yeah, yeah," Trip remarked, waving off their concern. "I went the stereotypical academic route. Figured no one would question what I was doing here then." He ran a hand down the truly offensive green and orange stripes of the brown coat he was wearing and winced.

"Probably a good plan," Jemma agreed with a smile. "No one's going to doubt you're a professor in that awful jacket."

"Okay," Skye stood up and tugged on Trip's lapel, seemingly straightening it, though Jemma was sure it was already fine. "If you see Ward, or anyone else we know, just stay out of sight, okay? Don't go after him." Jemma watched Skye swallow. "Just - get us an idea of who's going to the auction so we know whose schedules to check, okay? With Lance keeping an eye on Fitz while he's tapping into the security feed, you don't have backup."

"C'mon girl, you know I'll be fine." Trip nodded and shot Jemma a wink as he put on his glasses, which were really just clear lenses with a camera embedded in the frame. "I'm always calm under pressure."

"Last job where you were face to face with Ward, you broke his nose and Fitz got shot, remember?"

"Extenuating circumstances," Trip said smoothly before he delicately removed her hands from his jacket. "He'd already tried to kill my boy once. I wasn't in the mood for it again. I'll be fine."

"Okay." Skye gave a sigh and returned to her seat next to Jemma, the conference schedule open on one laptop, black screens waiting for Fitz's go ahead on the security feeds on the other.

Jemma understood Skye's worry. Trip had an earpiece in when he left the room, but Fitz and Lance didn't, not with their proximity to the security office - they had been worried other signals would interfere. Jemma kept squirming in her seat, waiting for something to happen on the black screens in front of her. She was multitasking by researching the different professors, art historians, even anthropologists, attending the conference to she could figure out who was most likely to attend an auction for blackmarket goods. So far though, everyone was squeaky clean, and she was getting antsy.

If there's one thing she'd learned about herself on this particular job, it was that she wasn't good at the waiting around. When she'd been under Mockingbird's training, there was always something to do - a con to memorize, an artist to replicate, a technique to practice. Out in the real world, it was just a whole lot of waiting for someone who was better at a job than you were to complete their task before you could do anything.

And usually, she'd found, you cared about those "someones" quite a bit, and the idea of waiting around while they could get caught and potentially arrested or killed was not conducive to multitasking. She huffed out a breath and got back to work, taking back the laptop that had the conference schedule open in one tab, moving to the other tab, and typing quickly. She wanted to be ready for any names Trip threw her way.

Next to her, the black screen blinked a few times, a white film coming over the laptop.

"Come on, Fitz." Skye tapped one finger just next to the track pad, waiting. "You've got the wrong input line. I know you know better than that. Are you letting Lance do all the work? You know he doesn't know shit about cutting into a feed." She mumbled the words, but Jemma glued her eyes to the screen, waiting for a glimpse of their team members. Elevator music came out of the laptop's speakers in response, and Skye snorted. "I guess Trip's on his way downstairs."

A throat clearing let them know he probably wasn't alone in the elevator right before one of the boxes on the screen flickered to life and Trip's camera feed came into view.

"Look," Jemma hissed, pointing at the screen as it blinked again and again, images beginning to settle into little boxes all over the screen.

"Eyes are up," Skye said proudly. "I can see everything. Even you, Trip." Skye allowed a smirk to settle over her face. "And the little old lady who is shamelessly checking you out."

Trip smiled up at the camera in the elevator in response and tugged on his ear.

Jemma scanned the little boxes as Skye spoke and spotted one of them where Lance and Fitz were attempting to walk nonchalantly down the hall wearing the same jackets the staff wore. As they rounded a corner and another camera picked them up, Fitz shrugged out of his and dropped it in a laundry cart. Lance did the same a few steps later. Jemma sighed in relief, a smile crossing her face.

"So…" Skye started, picking up her coke from the table and taking a sip. "You got any big plans after this job is over?"

"Not really." Jemma was still busy watching Fitz and Lance as they hopped into an elevator with a woman in a bikini. The woman not too subtly tossed her red hair over her shoulder and pulled her sunglasses down her nose. Jemma's smile widened when Fitz turned away from her to watch Lance watch her. "I mean, I'm not exactly getting a big score or anything from this job."

"We still could," Skye told her. "Depends on what they're hiding here."

"If we pull it off." Jemma didn't want to be a pessimist, but this job kept becoming more complicated and she wasn't sure there was a light at the end of the tunnel anymore.

"Don't bring doubt into the job. One member of the team doesn't believe in the job and-"

"And everything falls apart. I know." Jemma sighed. "I'm just worried." She watched her stepbrother making eyes at the woman in the elevator and Fitz struggling not to laugh. "I'm not used to so many people knowing my face."

"Yeah, well apparently you haven't pulled off as many jobs as you let me think either, so that's not surprising." Skye let the statement hang in the air for a moment. "Are you going to be able to do this? It's okay if you can't. I just need to know you're in."

Jemma tore her eyes away from the monitor where Fitz was exiting an elevator and Lance was nodding at the redhead, and she was glad Skye had chosen to ask her this when neither of them could hear. "I'm in," Jemma told her firmly. "What you all told me about Grant - he needs to be taken out of the game."

"Okay." Skye nodded, watching her carefully, but she turned back to the computer with a cheerful smile as the door to their suite opened.

-o-

Jemma stood at the back of the suite's living area and toyed with one of her earrings. Lance was sitting at one computer monitoring Grant's movements, trying to get an idea of where he was hiding all of Bakshi's merchandise. Skye was watching Trip's progress as he mingled at a mixer for conference guests. Fitz was splitting his attention between Lance and Skye, intent on helping whichever of them sent a question his way. He'd grabbed information on everyone Trip had met so far. And she felt useless.

Sure, she was armed with her own iPad in case they needed additional research, but it was clear that this team was a well oiled machine, and she wondered if they really needed her beyond the fact that she had already been involved with Bakshi's company. She was almost positive they could pull off this job without her. They could have probably pulled off their own and hers and just left her to watch.

As if he could sense her doubts, Fitz twisted in his seat to turn around and give her a small smile. She couldn't help but smile back, reminding herself that the sooner this job was over, the sooner the two of them could really get to know one another.

-o-

Fitz forced himself to pay attention to Trip as his voice came through a set of speakers on Skye's laptop.

"Dr. Randolph, it's so great to meet you. I've been looking forward to this."

Fitz froze at the keyboard, his eyes shooting to the screen.

"Fitz?" Skye prompted, as she flicked through camera feeds to get a better look at Trip's new companion. "Find out who -"

But Fitz, when he saw the man on the camera feed, already knew who Trip was talking to. Jemma's voice from behind them stopped him from opening his mouth. She leaned over the couch just above his shoulder so her voice would be picked up by the microphone.

"Dr. Elliot Randolph. PhDs in several anthropological and historical fields, but he specializes in Norse mythology. He's obsessed with it. His pet project involves the idea that the Norse gods were actually real human beings whose legend has simply grown over time and he's used various art and myths to support it."

"You get all that?" Skye asked the microphone needlessly. Trip was already striking up a conversation with him. "Do we think he'll go to the auction?"

"I don't know." Jemma's breath ghosted over Fitz's ear. Her arms were next to his head as she tapped on the surface of her tablet. "He doesn't have a record, but he's bounced around positions a lot. He's only been a professor, working out of Spain now, for a few months."

"He'll go," Fitz said. "He can't resist havin' a look, especially if he even thinks there's a possibility of anythin' related to Hela. She's his favorite in Norse mythology. Ruled the underworld."

"How do you know that?"

He turned to find Jemma's eyes staring into his, her hair swinging down and partially hiding them from the view of the others. He hadn't expected them to be nose to nose, and he swallowed hard. "I've met him. On another retrieval job. Also worked for him a couple of times. He's not a bad guy. But he doesn't care if he gets his stuff illegally. And he's got money to burn. Family worked in gold or somethin'."

Jemma nodded, her hair sliding against his cheek, and she stood up quickly, a little out of breath. Fitz tried not to be too pleased that she seemed to be affected by their close proximity as well.

"What's the play then? Should I flirt with him, get him to invite me?"

"No!" Fitz cringed at his own outburst. Jemma was exactly Randolph's type - young, intelligent, eager to learn, and bloody gorgeous; it would probably be the perfect set up. He tried to correct his own blunder for Skye and Lance, who were both snickering. "If Trip convinces him they're into the same field, he'll ask him. He's not very discreet. An' he loves to hear himself talk about his own projects." He shrugged when Skye raised an eyebrow at him. "Besides, we already have an invitation, remember? We jus' need to know where to go."

"Trip," Skye called into the mic, "you heard him. Turn on the charm and get him to tell you."

Fitz had completely forgotten that when he had worked a job for Randolph with another colleague, there was a reason they had called him "rambling Randy." The man could talk for hours about absolutely nothing. Lance had left them to go shower, and Skye had gone to grab them all some more food. Her motto seemed to be that a happy team meant a well fed team. It was one of the many reasons he liked working jobs with Skye. Jemma was curled up at one end of the sofa, arms folded under her head, as she watched security feeds. She yawned and moved to stretch, but her feet collided with his thigh, and Fitz froze.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her knees curling back up.

"Nah, it's fine," he hurriedly reassured her, his hand reaching out and pulling on one ankle so she was encouraged to stretch her legs back out to their full length, her feet resting across his lap. "If you're tired, I can take over."

"Fitz." She breathed out his name like she was only half awake, and he resolved to hear her say it like that again when the job was over, and under much better circumstances. She blinked rapidly as if trying to clear her eyes. "You can't watch both feeds and keep giving Trip information about Norse mythology and make notes on where the merchandise is stored. I know you think you're a genius, but it's a lot for one person to handle."

He smirked, but looked back at the laptop screen to keep an eye on Trip and Randolph. He waited a few minutes, and when she shifted her position, her feet turning over in his lap and her toes pointing to the end of the sofa again under his fingertips, he told her, "I am actually a genius."

She made a disbelieving sort of cluck in the back of her mouth.

"I am."

"Says who?"

"Every school tha' ever had me tested while I was growin' up."

"Really?"

He could hear the curiosity in her voice completely replacing the disbelief.

"Yeah."

She didn't say anything else for a long time, but when the water turned off and they could hear it slowing in the pipes, indicating Lance was finished with his shower, she nudged his knee playfully with her foot. "So am I. I think that's why my father was so rattled when I left university."

Fitz decided not to ask about her father. Family had always been a touchy subject with Lance and he got the feeling being related to Lance meant that it was for Jemma too. Instead, he asked the safer question as Randolph began spouting off to Trip about what he thought mankind's fear of giant snakes really meant in the Norse underworld - it was all very phallic, and Fitz very much wanted to tune him out.

"What were you studyin' when you left?"

"Everything!" Jemma's whole body seemed to hum with excitement, and Fitz watched her as she spoke. Her eyes stayed on the screen as she tracked Grant's movements, but she didn't look nearly as sleepy. "I couldn't pick just one field. How can anyone? Everything is fascinating. I took art classes and history classes and chemistry. I even took courses on archaeology. I took one history class on tracing the royal lineage. So fun! I spent one semester taking all of the courses offered on the poetry of John Donne. He was amazing." She must have realized he was staring at her because she snapped her mouth shut abruptly and offered him a shy smile and a shrug.

"Bein' interested in everythin' is good in our line of work." He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her ankle where his hand had settled back down when she stopped moving. Her anklet shifted, cold on his hand, and he pulled his fingers back to run them through his hair.

"Yes. Well. I don't think this was exactly the life my father thought I'd be living."

"Right." Fitz nodded. "I guess most kids don't have griftin' as the family business to fall back on."

"Lance did," she said sharply, but then she was quiet again, and Fitz didn't press for more information.

He had a feeling he could piece together that family photo album pretty well with that comment and what little he knew about Lance. Jemma only ever spoke about her father. Lance grew up with a grifter for a parent. Chances were, his mother was something of a queen of hearts, tricking wealthy men into falling for her and either marrying them for the divorce settlement or stealing whatever she could get her hands on before it went that far. Lance grew up learning how to grift, but Jemma only learned the basics as a teenager - from Lance - and from the Mockingbird, Lance's old girlfriend, as an adult. It didn't take a genius to see that was a complicated mess to wade into.

Loud laughter from the speakers of the computer had him leaning forward, trapping Jemma's feet on his thighs.

"It's fate, you know?" Randolph was saying through his laughter.

"Yeah, man. For sure." Trip agreed, laying on the southern charm. "Can't argue with fate."

"Because of course they'd be selling the lost text about Hela and her pet snakes in the Onyx Ballroom. It's a good omen!"

"Right…"

"Oh, because Hela is associated with onyx? The gemstone?" Randolph's tone became skeptical.

"Oh, right. I'd always heard obsidian myself."

"Be careful, Trip," Fitz warned into the microphone. "He's dabbled in geology."

"He's certainly got an impressive academic background," Jemma mused.

"Yes, some people think they're the same," Randolph prodded.

Jemma and Fitz both reached for the iPad on the table at the same time, but Trip was already smoothly saying, "Well, that's understandable. Appearances aren't all that different. Some obsidian's got a better shine to it. It's the heat from the volcanic ash that does it."

"Right you are, my friend!"

Jemma and Fitz breathed twin sighs of relief, and Fitz grabbed their map of the hotel, pushing Jemma's legs from his lap so he could sit up, spreading the paper out between them on the sofa. They both searched the labels, but it was Jemma who spotted it first, her fingertip jabbing at a rectangular marking on the second floor layout.

"Onyx Ballroom." Fitz grinned as she read. "The smallest of the ballrooms offered, it's perfect for intimate gatherings and corporate events, so named for the intricate stonework and gemstone overlay running the length of the room."

"Sounds classy," Fitz remarked, turning back to his laptop and searching the information he had already gathered that wasn't available on the free map offered at the front desk, the gift shop, the gym, and anywhere else a tourist might get lost. "There's an office space right behind it tha' can be rented out as well for guests plannin' events so they've got space to work from. Only two ways in or out of tha' room, right into the ballroom or through the back in the employee corridors that run through the hotel common areas."

"Definitely where the merchandise is," Jemma agreed. She leaned closer, bracing her hand on the paper to look over his shoulder at the more detailed schematics of the hotel. "How's the ventilation in that area?" Fitz rolled his eyes at her when she smirked. "You do think you can navigate the ventilation shafts properly this time, don't you?"

-o-