"Perfect cover story," Fabio winked. "Plus, whatever magical light show you two created? Pure theatrical gold! The sharks will practically tornado themselves!"
Delilah's fingers brushed against the blueprint, and a brief vision flashed—paired shadows moving beneath the stage, carrying something that glowed with magical energy.
"There's something under the theater," she murmured. "Something that resonates when Sam and I... when we..."
"When you harmonize," Fabio finished, his eyes twinkling. "Like ingredients in a perfect soufflé."
Sam groaned. "Can we please focus on the case and not my future Broadway career?"
"Darling," Fabio patted Sam's cheek, "in Assjacket, they're often the same thing."
Delilah followed Fabio through a maze of backstage corridors, Sam trailing reluctantly behind them. The smell of mothballs and ancient makeup grew stronger as they approached a door labeled "COSTUMES & DREAMS" in peeling gold letters.
"I really don't see why we need costumes to investigate," Sam muttered. "We could just search the theater after hours."
"Cover stories require commitment, darling," Fabio replied, flinging open the door with theatrical flair. "Besides, your shark performance needs all the help it can get."
The costume room was a riot of color and texture—feathers, sequins, and fabrics in impossible hues spilled from every surface. Racks of costumes created narrow pathways through the chaos, and mannequins in various states of dress stood like silent sentinels.
"Hello?" Delilah called, stepping carefully around what appeared to be a pile of tentacles with googly eyes attached.
"Ah! The tempest and the predator arrive!"
Delilah nearly jumped out of her skin as Elder Thornberry popped up from behind a sewing machine, wearing spectacles with built-in pincushions on each side of the frames. A measuring tape draped around his neck like a scarf, and he wielded fabric scissors with alarming enthusiasm.
"Elder Thornberry? You're the costume designer?" Delilah asked, exchanging a bewildered look with Sam.
"Costume alchemist!" Elder corrected, shuffling toward them with surprising speed. "Transforming the ordinary into the extraordinary since Tuesday! Or was it last February? Time is a flat circle sewn with invisible thread!"
He thrust a bundle of shimmering blue fabric into Delilah's arms. "For the storm-bringer! Weather is emotion made visible! Your costume must reflect the meteorological manifestations of your heart!"
The fabric tingled against Delilah's skin, seeming to respond to her touch. "It's... moving?"
"Method costuming!" Elder declared, already circling Sam with predatory focus. "The garment becomes the wearer becomes the garment! Now you, wolf-man! Stand still while I measure your shark potential."
Sam shot Delilah a desperate look. "Is this really necessary?"
"When the shark fin meets the lightning bolt, truth swims in shallow waters!" Elder proclaimed, draping a silver-gray material across Sam's shoulders. "The Collector always pairs opposites! Try this sequined dorsal attachment."
"The Collector?" Delilah's attention snapped to Elder Thornberry. "What do you know about?—"
"Arms up!" Thornberry commanded Sam, ignoring her question. "Higher! A shark with droopy fins inspires no terror!"
Sam reluctantly raised his arms, looking like he'd rather face an entire pack of rival wolves than continue this fitting session. The costume Elder draped over him—a sleek, silvery bodysuit with an elaborate dorsal fin—actually looked impressive until Sam scowled.
"I feel ridiculous," he growled.
Instantly, the costume shrunk, the sleeves riding up his arms and the pants becoming uncomfortably short.
"Your embarrassment offends the costume!" Elder Thornberry cackled. "Method costuming responds to emotional authenticity! Embrace your inner shark!"
Delilah couldn't suppress her laughter, which sent a cascade of static electricity crackling through her own costume. Tiny lightning bolts danced across the fabric, making her hair stand on end.
"Oh!" she yelped, feeling the charge building.
"Perfect!" Elder clapped his hands in delight. "The storm brews within! Emotional weather patterns made manifest!"
Sam's eyes widened as he watched the electricity dancing around her. "Delilah, you're literally glowing."
