"Jesus Christ, Phyllis," Reba said. She tugged on her black leotard. "This is the worst cover I’ve ever been assigned."
Phyllis was still trying to catch her breath from the running they’d had to do a few minutes before. “Do you think this is the time—”
"Okay, no. But twins as a Burlesque double act? Jesus Christ."
"I had to think on the fly. The Russians move fast."
"These wigs look ridiculous. And I really don’t want to die in this leotard."
Phyllis allowed herself a moment of softness. She put her hand on Reba’s arm, which was still tugging at the bottom of her leotard, and waited until Reba looked up at her.
Phyllis held her eyes. “You’re not going to die in that leotard. All right?”
Reba shut her eyes, took a breath, then opened them again. She nodded.
"Just follow my lead," said Phyllis.
She put on her bunny ears. The headband was a little too tight over her temple, but it would be all right for the three minutes they’d need to scope their target in the audience and complete their mission.
With one last long look at each other, Phyllis and Reba walked out onto the bright stage. They curtsied just once and began, with all the grace they could muster, to dance.