His father had decided to invite to watch something that wasn't the colosseum since he especially knew the pain that was now associated with that location. They would visit a travelling troupe that was working in the town. His father, David, had mentioned it to Alex, and they were to catch up after the show to talk about their lives and answer many questions on Eight's mind.

The show was being hosted by a playwright, who had been gathering actors at locations and teaching them over a few days, handling all the work, from make up to stage to warming up the audience. The play was said to have a high level of professionalism, and there were rumors of it coming around and how great it was.

Alex and David were walking together, having a chit chat. Alex was bombarding him with questions, about his basics. Such as his favorite color, his age, where he was from. As these, simpler questions were answered. they finally go to the stage area. There was a large, beautifully constructed stage of wood, with fine velvet draped over it and small golden embellishments. There was standing room only, and there was even a group of bards with their instruments right off stage, on both sides to enhance the experience.

A man in glasses was walking around the crowd a bit out of place, but there were all sorts of people. Even some nobles were in attendance with the private security escort, as well as some rabble dressed in their rags. Actors before they would go behind the scenes were in the crowd too, warming everyone up.The atmosphere was bubbly, there were drinks being sold, likely by the same troupe, and finally some music began, as a ten minute warning that the show was about to start.

Eight was happy to spend some time with his father, David, after bonding over this, it should make the hard heart-to-heart that would normally ensue afterwards, a little easier. Eight had bought a round of drinks for himself and his father, as he tried to squirm to get a better sight.

Midas had done his work. Everything was going according the plan, the weather was holding up still, the alcohol was flowing and the music was playing gracefully according to time. He reached into his pouch and pulled out two different hourglasses and flipped them over and stuck them back into his pouch. Timing was everything when it came to these things for him. The production was liberating, it was a form of fun for him, but this was only the foreplay for the main course. He was roaming the crowd, and he was looking for his targets. There seemed to be nobles, but they were far too guarded, there were the street urchins, but obviously there was little of value there, but out of the corner of his eyes, now there was something to be gained. It was risky, check. It seemed to be quite rewarding, check. Dion began to salivate at the thought of it, he could tell this had several magical items on him, very much like an amateur, and even better, the gentleman was already getting hammered.

Midas looked back into his pouch to check his time and pulled out a quill, dipped into an inkwell within his leather satchel and wrote a note in a small, hand-stitched pocket notebook, documenting his plan, leaving space to fill in the outcome. Midas put away the writing instrument and the notebook, and pulled out his shard of solomon.

The instruments starting to rise in tempo and pitch, as the final moments before starting time ended. Someone walked on stage and started giving a speech about the play that was about to go on. The middle-aged man was charismatic and calm, speaking audibly through a cone that projected and echoed his voice throughout the crowd. There were people around who were very eager about the whole show, already clapping and cheering prematurely.

He bowed and as he walked off stage, the curtain pulling back matched his pace. It was almost pitch-black on stage, despite it being daytime, but as that happened a man walked past a pitch-black layer of curtain, adorned in his outfit. An chainmail-armored man with a crimson, velvet mantle attached to his back, and even golden laurels for a crown. He was a handsome, yet rugged man, and his features were each handcrafted to give a background to this man, even scars to show his military back ground. Other actors came out from the edges of the screen applauding the return of this main character, with flat structures coming from the stage to show the scene and the whole stage was illuminated from above by some hidden means.

Eight was intrigued, the atmosphere was similar to that of colosseum with less desperation, and there was less of a gap between the classes. Perhaps because it was something new and niche, but it was still entertaining as he was following the plot of the story, occasionally looking to his father to see how he was enjoying it. Something seemed off with his father, David, but he just assumed he was over thinking it.

Midas peered at the two hourglasses, one was just running out and the other wasn't far behind. Midas walked on stage and gave the introduction to the show, warming up the energy of the crowd. Even if he seemed calm, his heart was palpitating, nearly bouncing out of his chest. Now it was the time for his excitement. All the work he did and all the money he would make would go back to paying for all the actors salaries as well as all the costumes, the locations, seeding rumors for people to come.

The moment of his excitement was to blend into the crowd and steal from the most interesting target, and Midas had decided to steal from Alexander, not knowing who he was. Midas skulked through the distraction around the action and towards a parked covered wagon, it was his essentially his mobile home. He began to undress, and he started to put on a harness with pads on his chest... fake breasts? He put on a nude-colored elastic over his head to cover his hair and put a wig over it, giving his a different look. He dressed up and applied make up to his face, rounding out his features and evening his skin, making him look younger. Midas finished up his makeover with a dab of rose-toned lipstick, and kissing his lips to evenly distribute the gloss.

Changing his clothing, he stepped outside with the shard in hand. This would be his first big show, and quite likely his first big target. The female-version of Midas starting walking to the crowd, slowly blending in as he was always apart of it and closing in on Eight and his father. The clothing she had was suited to taking a large amount of objects, but there was too much. She would have to be brazen about the ordeal, as well as talented to take him for everything he had.

As Midas was finally in position behind Eight. He had 4 amulets, 2 daggers, a large sword, a pair of crystal heels in a bag, two pairs of books, a large amethyst broadsword attached to his back, and a pouch of money. With the shard in hand, Midas reached out to pouch of money with the intent of taking not only this satchel of cash, but EVERYTHING that Eight had, and to make it out alive, even if he was caught.

As Midas touched the satchel, the shard collided against the burlap and disintegrated in his hand as he snipped the purse with his left hand and let it transfer into his right.

OOC: Shard in Midas' right palm. Midas palms Eight's satchel from beneath, with the thought of taking everything from Eight and surviving. Midas cuts the purse with his left hand, and takes it away in his right.