Coco Chanel and Rihanna are stuck in Vault in a Bank Heist and forced to have a deep conversation.

"Darling, this vault is dreadfully unchic. All that gold, so vulgar," Coco sighed, adjusting her pearls.

Rihanna rolled her eyes, "Girl, 'vulgar' pays the bills. And this ain't about aesthetics, it's about survival."

"Survival, yes, but with *style*. One shouldn't abandon elegance, even when facing the abyss," Coco retorted, smoothing her tweed suit.

"Elegance ain't gonna crack this safe, Coco. Sometimes you gotta get your hands dirty," Rihanna countered, examining a laser grid.

Coco paused, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. "Perhaps... but even in dirt, a single, perfectly placed diamond can redefine the landscape."

Rihanna smirked. "See? We speakin' the same language. Just different dialects of boss."

"Indeed. The world changes, but the power of transformation through design remains eternal," Coco mused, gazing at the steel door.

"True dat. Whether it's clothes or a getaway, you gotta make a statement," Rihanna agreed, pulling out a high-tech gadget.

"And never, *never*, apologize for being unforgettable," Coco declared, a glint of rebellion in her eyes.

Rihanna grinned, "Exactly. Now, let's blow this popsicle stand...in style."