The team found themselves in the main foyer. Lit chandeliers dangled from the high ceiling. Intricate frescoes lined the walls; each depicted actors, musicians, and other artists in idealized locations. Large double-doors, all open, led out of the room ahead of them and to both sides.

Miles sniffed the air and immediately looked to his left. An opulent mahogany table dominated the dining room; various finger-foods were presented on a wide array of trays, and several punch bowls held a variety of drinks, with stacks of cups and plates interspersed regularly. “That’s what I was waiting for!” he announced as he stomped toward the feast.

“Decorum!” Lorarona chided, but he was already gone. Sighing, she followed him.

Miles managed to stack several different snacks on the same small plate. An elegant, silver-haired older lady glared at him, making scoffing sounds. He flashed her a giddy smile. “Do you think they have larger plates?”

“Ugh,” she sputtered. “The effrontery.” She turned her back to him, but remained standing where she was. Miles looked around uncomfortably.

Lorarona finally caught up with Miles. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re making us look bad!”

Noninja strolled the perimeter of the table, his eyes taking in the variety of colors and shapes. Finally, he picked one morsel, a slice of a sushi roll with several different exotic ingredients. He popped it neatly into his mouth and closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. He turned to the young gentleman standing next to him. “Exquisite taste, wouldn’t you agree?”

The young man’s face turned sour. “I can’t believe they let your kind in here.” He turned away without saying another word.

“I was just wondering if they had larger plates!” Miles blubbered quietly. “Is it so wrong to ask that?”

“These are snack foods!” Lorarona whispered. “You’re not supposed to fill up on them! You look like a greedy slob!”

“In this tuxedo?” he protested.

Clancy stood before a few dessert trays, loading up a small collection of chocolate treats. He turned to the twin girls standing next to him, only a few years younger than him, both wearing matching dresses. “I’m excited to see the play tonight,” he offered. “Aren’t you?”

The twins turned to each other and giggled. “Nerd!” one of them blasted. Clancy gave them a haunted look as they scampered away, snickering loudly.

“Maybe if I can find someone who works here, I can ask if there are larger plates,” Miles continued, undaunted.

Lorarona gave him a stern glare and pointed down the table. Miles turned to look and saw a few servants filling trays. They all wore tuxedos like his. He gulped and headed back out the double doors.

The team huddled in the den, just to the side of the main foyer. “Am I wrong, or do people instantly hate us?” pined Noninja.

“I just found out I’m dressed like the help,” whined Miles.

“And I can wear my good suit and most expensive tie pin, and I’m still a geek,” whimpered Clancy.

“Knock it off already, you guys,” Lorarona chided. “You just need to find something these people like, and fast. I suppose you’d rather head back to the sewer?”

Noninja and Clancy shuddered. “Point taken,” Noninja conceded. “But what do we do?”

“Well,” Lorarona snapped, “you could look around, try to learn something about these people and what they might enjoy!”

Miles scanned the walls. “So they like paintings?”

Lorarona sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Don’t you guys know anything? These paintings are all of famous entertainers!”

“Oh.” Miles looked down, ashamed.

“Now look closely at them,” she continued. “What does each one have?”

They fanned out over the den for a better view. “Oh,” Clancy noticed. “They all contain personal messages to the Medochre family members.”

“Right. These entertainers consider the Medochres to be their peers. And none of you look like you’re part of the ‘in’ crowd.”

Noninja stole a look at the front door. “Guess the guards were trying to do us a favor.”

“You’re still not getting it,” Lorarona pointed out, then leaned in to whisper. “We’re here to do a job! We can’t do that unless we blend in! Now get it together!”

“I just noticed something,” Clancy cut in. “These four paintings don’t have any personal messages on them. What do you think it means?”

Lorarona met him in front of the painting and gave him a sour look. “That’s because they live here. Don’t you recognize the one on the end?”

Clancy’s eyes grew wide. The last portrait was of a sandy-haired older teenage boy, dressed like a flamboyant hunter, with a dark, intense look in his eyes and a cryptic smile. “Oh,” he remembered. “That’s the jerk we met near the food court.”

“Right. And it’s his evening, so be nice. Now, over here,” she continued, referring to the first unsigned portrait, “this is Tarkington Medochre, the master of the house.” The portrait showed a red-haired middle-aged man, bearded and rotund, dressed in very fancy clothes, with a fierce look in his eyes.

“And this is his wife, Pretentia.” The painting depicted a raven-haired Rubenesque middle-aged woman, wearing a fine dress and plenty of sparkling jewelry, with an arrogant, dismissive expression on her face. “In her younger days, she was known professionally as Pretty Phoenix, and was renowned for her preternatural beauty.” She put her hands on her hips. “It’s a good thing one of us is a bard.”

“Who’s this adorable little number?” Miles oozed, gawking at the final portrait. It was of a stunningly beautiful young blonde lady, barely over the age of majority, with a somewhat starry-eyed look on her face.

Noninja came closer for a look. “I don’t know, but for a portrait, she’s showing entirely too much bare skin.”

“I’m not sure who she is,” Lorarona admitted. “She must be Lyle’s older sister.”

“I think her name is Adelphia,” Clancy announced. “This message is addressed to someone of that name.” They crowded around Clancy to read the message. “Lady Adelphia: I have no doubt that your graceful presence is destined to become a force majeure in the glittering world of theater. Yours, Lord Smarmio.”

“Ugh,” Lorarona grimaced, reflexively brushing off her hands. “Sometimes you can feel the skeeze come through their words.”

“I think it’s safe to guess what sort of ‘productions’ she appears in,” Miles sneered.

“So,” Lorarona interrupted, “hopefully you understand these people a little better now, and can take a few guesses about what they would like?”

“Indeed I do,” declared Noninja, strolling out of the room. “But we can’t do it here.” The other three exchanged worried glances and then followed him out the door they hadn’t taken yet.

They found themselves in the house’s main hallway, running the whole of its width. Far to their right, they could see what appeared to be a ballroom, with people dancing and socializing. Far to their left, they could see pew-like seating and a stage; clearly, that was the theater. The door in front of them was open too. “Yep, that’s the one,” Noninja announced.

Lorarona looked down the hall to the theater; a secretive smile blossomed over her face. “Would you all excuse me for a moment?” she asked. “I have something I want to try.”

“Uh, sure,” Miles blubbered. “Knock yourself out.” But she was already gone.

They shrugged before striding through the door, entering an easily-configurable multipurpose room, presently set up as a conversation pit. Six couches were arranged in a circle, each with its own low table. Two couches were arranged to look outside at the opposite end of the room, which featured a large, rounded bay of windows. Nearly a dozen people were here, some sitting, some standing.

Noninja snickered. “Wow, a conversation pit,” he said a bit too loudly. “I think my grandfather had one of those.”

Scattered guffaws flitted from the assembled people. A few met Noninja’s gaze and raised their drinks to him.

He turned back to face his team, a triumphant smile on his face. “That’s what this crowd likes,” he declared. “Sick burns, at other people’s expense.”