They emptied their glasses and ordered another. After a few minutes, Bliss ran into the bar, her hair still wet from a shower. She took a seat next to Schuyler and across from Oliver. "Hey, guys. Thanks for meeting me."
"Manhattan?"
"Sure."
The three of them clinked drinks.
"Mmm... these nuts are good," Bliss said, popping a few into her mouth.
Oliver and Schuyler laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I'll tell you later, it's not important," Schuyler said.
Bliss raised an eyebrow. The two of them were like that all the time. Inside jokes, memories of their friendship she didn't share. It was amazing that Dylan had put up with it.
"C'mon, what's happened? Why did you want to meet here?" Schuyler asked.
"He's here."
"Who?" Oliver asked.
"Who else? Dylan." Bliss replied. She told them what she found out from her father - that Dylan had been released - but he wasn't exactly as free as Charles Force had told them. Instead, he had been put into protective custody in a suite at the Carlyle Hotel. The judge had allowed Charles Force to bail him out, on the condition that Dylan be released only to his care. Her father said it was all a misunderstanding, and the charges would be dropped soon enough. But they still couldn't figure out why Dylan was being held anyway, especially by Charles Force.
"And I overheard my dad and Charles talking, about how 'they take care of their own' and 'not to let the situation get out of hand. "
"Wonder what he meant by that?" Schuyler asked, taking another almond from the bowl.
Bliss took a long swig from her cocktail. "Anyway, the way I see it, we just do what Oliver said. Bust him out. We can't fail. Use mind control to overwhelm the guards - Schuyler told me she had done it before - then speed him out of there, and Ollie's the lookout. They're holding him in Room 1001."
"Just like that?" Oliver asked.
"Yeah, why not? You're the one who told us to think like Blue Bloods."
"But how do we get upstairs in the first place? Don't you need to be a guest?" Oliver asked.
"Actually," Schuyler piped up, "that's the easiest part. Cordelia and I used to stay here all the time. I know the elevator guys."
"Well then, let's get the show on the road," Oliver said, raising his hand for the check.
They walked out to the main lobby toward the guarded elevator. "Hey, Marty," Schuyler said, smiling at the elevator man in his shiny red coat with brass buttons.
"Hi, Miss Schuyler, you haven't been here in a while," he said, tipping his hat.
"I know, it's been too long," Schuyler said smoothly, ushering in her friends into the mirrored elevator.
"Twelfth floor?" Marty asked genially.
"No, they uh, put us on ten this time. You guys must be booked."
"It's October," he explained. "Lots of tourists. Some show at the Met or something." He pressed the TEN and took a step back, smiling at Schuyler and her friends.
"Thanks, Marty, see you around!" Schuyler said, when the doors opened.
They walked toward the end of the hallway to the room, but when they arrived at Room 1001, there were no guards stationed at the front of the room.
"That's weird," Bliss said. "I heard my dad saying they've got like, all these cops around him all the time."