So much bigger than a sneaky gondola move. Still processing.

>Even if I invite backup, there’s no way they pull it off.

The cricket hops on his pillow. Not this again. He puts the bug on the ground and falls back asleep. Not more than five minutes go by, and the cricket is hopping around his head again. Piece by piece the alarm goes off. He tried to avoid the song by switching up the minute hands wake time. Never fails. The cricket is back, different hour and minute, piece by piece. They are crowding the boy with concern and worry, maybe even a desire to know what he’s laughing at. The screens and the scenes he’s writing aren’t finished. Now the cricket and the magical playlist crowd him worse than the actresses at work. Here’s a horrific tale, look at the mess, his impression of your insecurity, and his belief that the vault will one day not let his spirit outside anymore.