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"Is it true what they say?"
"Is what true?" Lydia asks, trying to move her lips as little as possible. Thankfully, her combination earpiece and microphone is hidden by the flowing blonde wig perched on top of her head. She glances across the ballroom; it's crowded with revelers, and since all of the servers are dressed identically in white button-downs, black trousers and bow ties, it's difficult to determine at a glance which one is Allison.
"That blondes have more fun."
"Next time, you can be the blonde," Lydia replies, taking a tiny sip from her glass of champagne.
"Fine by me." Allison's voice seamlessly becomes peppier, more upbeat, as she offers an hors d'oeuvre to someone. After a moment, she continues, "I miss the red, but we should still keep that wig."
"Only if you keep your outfit." Glancing to her left, Lydia realizes that Allison is only a few yards away, flowing locks hidden under a black pixie cut wig. She can't risk looking too long, can't let their identities be compromised, but thankfully, Allison immediately looks up, catches her eye and grins.
"Deal," she says, effortlessly navigating through the crowd with her loaded tray of food. "Now, let's find this guy so I can take you home and get that dress off you."
Lydia immediately turns her eyes back to the crowd.
She has a job to do, and quickly at that, because she really wants to know what Allison looks like wearing only her bow tie.