Molly inspected her reflection in the back of a plastic spoon, carefully reapplying her lipstick. "Honestly, of all the places, Bill. A four-year-old's birthday party?" She snapped the compact shut with a sigh. Across the table, Bill, a man whose girth suggested a fondness for cake that extended far beyond this particular heist, was marking up a hand-drawn map in crayon. He glanced up, his face smeared with blue icing. "What can I say, Moll? The little tykes are loaded these days. And they don't expect a thing." They were perched at a wobbly plastic table in a dingy diner, the air thick with the smell of burnt coffee and despair. A lone fly buzzed lazily against the window, mirroring the sluggish pace of the morning. "Besides," Bill continued, shoving the last bite of a glazed donut into his mouth, "it's a petting zoo theme. Free reconnaissance." He winked, crumbs raining down onto the map. Molly suppressed a shudder. "Right, because blending in with a bunch of sticky-fingered toddlers and their neurotic parents is my idea of a good time." She pushed a stray strand of hair back from her face, already feeling her anxiety climb. "What exactly do you expect to find in those presents anyway? Plastic dinosaurs? Building blocks?" Bill chortled, wiping his greasy fingers on his already questionable shirt. "Don't underestimate the power of guilt-gifting, Moll. Aunties, uncles, second cousins twice removed - they all feel obligated to splash out. We're talking tablets, designer onesies, maybe even a tiny gold necklace or two. It's like raiding a miniature Tiffany's." Molly shot him a dubious look. "And you're sure about the security?" Bill pulled a crumpled napkin from his pocket and unfolded it with a flourish. "Janitor's schedule, delivery times for the bouncy castle, even the name of the birthday girl's pet hamster. We're golden, Moll. Golden." He grinned, his confidence doing little to soothe Molly's growing unease. She sighed, picking up the crayon and drawing a large, red X on the map where Bill had written "Escape Route - Bouncy Castle." "Scratch that," she muttered, already mentally plotting a new plan. "Bouncy castles are for amateurs."