In hindsight this epic break-in test run might’ve been a lot easier without the costumes.  “Bad choices.  Make bad choices with me.”  Was all he had to say and Sam was 110% in for Blaine’s Master Plan of breaking into Dalton.  Twice.  They had to make a point. New Directions–and for Blaine he–would not be swayed by guerilla tactics unless THEY were the ones committing said guerilla tactics.  A point that would soon be made after narrowing down the perfect route to take to and from the Warbler Common Room to the waiting car–still running–and to McKinley where they would be off scot-free with their beloved prize and dignity back.

Waiting til the weekend when most of the boys would be out or home?  Common sense. Going in through the balcony adjacent to the spot marked X on Blaine’s map?  Also common sense. Doing this for the first time in a suit that weighed him down and restricted his movement? Common sense, too.  Cause how was he supposed to do it right for real if he couldn’t pull it off the first?  That’s what he told himself.  Jumping for the fifth time, a flush faced NIGHTBIRD grunted as he plastered a gloved hand to the back of his neck and squinted at the BLONDE CHAMELEON. “Make them with me-uhm–,” a booted foot lifted and he pointed at the balcony overhead that his fingers fell inches short of grabbing every time he tried jumping up to reach. “Right after you–,” he winced feeling his pride take a nosedive, “BLONDE CHAMELEON?” Blaine stood taller trying to prove it wasn’t a height thing it was a costume thing–totally. “NIGHTBIRD requests leg-up.”