The Rhox burst through the door, kicking it open with a bang. You followed behind, taking a good look around the room. It was decked out with velvet, gold, and fine woodwork trim—"nice place" didn't nearly cut it but was definitely apt.
Yet you spotted it: a painting on the wall ever so slightly askew, and you knew you had the right joint. Pulling it aside, you went to work on the safe behind it.
Whoever sold it to this place would have said it was "a good safe," but it took under a minute to yield to your efforts. You weren't told what you'd find inside, but your contact was insistent that whatever was there would be worth your while.