"Yeah. Just rig in, or press in the knob a bit before you turn it. Either works."  Shocky steps off, presses the button, and starts speaking, quickly passing out of earshot as she enters the building.<br/><br/>For the next 45 minutes, the biggest enemy Harper has is boredom. The run is going stupidly well by the signs that the devices are giving off. The signal hasn't been cut off, no gunfire, even the increases in Shocky's vitals aren't indicative of a fight.<br/><br/>At 55 and counting, there's a sharp, sharp spike in the vital monitor, big enough that it sets off one of the red flags for the system. Somewhat worse is the cheap security that's walking from the restaurant to the van, probably to say something dreck-eating stupid. "Miss, you'll need to cover up unless you wanna be fined." Something like that. Because that's what the run needs, a-<br/><br/>Tap, tap, tap, goes the finger on the glass. "Hey, you might wanna get ready to leave. That VIP caught your friend and the manager and now ain't nobody in a good mood." And with a short double take-stare at Harper's state of dress (or lack thereof), the security guy turns to leave.