Frank Sinatra and Jolin Tsai are stuck in Vault in a Bank Heist and forced to have a deep conversation.

"This ain't exactly Vegas, doll," Sinatra drawled, adjusting his fedora in the low light, "Though the stakes are just as high, see?"

"Vegas is all show, Mr. Sinatra," Jolin replied, her voice precise and unwavering, "Here, it's about confronting what's real, what we truly desire."

Sinatra chuckled, "Desire? Honey, I've chased desire my whole life. It usually leads to trouble, pretty much like this vault."

"Trouble can be a catalyst, a spark for reinvention," Jolin countered, thinking of her own constant evolution as an artist.

"Reinvention's for squares," Sinatra scoffed, "I'm Frank Sinatra. What you see is what you get, even trapped with a pop princess."

"Even legends must adapt, Mr. Sinatra," Jolin stated, meeting his gaze, "The world changes, music changes, even vault security changes."

Sinatra sighed, "Alright, alright, kid. Maybe you got a point. But you gotta play the cards you're dealt, see?"

"The cards are only tools, Mr. Sinatra. It's how we arrange them that creates the masterpiece, or the mess," Jolin mused.

"So, what's your masterpiece gonna be, kid? Getting us outta here, or writing a song about it?" Sinatra asked, intrigued.

Jolin smiled faintly, "Perhaps both, Mr. Sinatra. Perhaps both."