"So, we're agreed then?" Bill's voice carried a note of excitement, like a kid about to raid a cookie jar. "We hit the party, grab the presents, and make our getaway before those brats even know their juice boxes are spiked." "Hold your horses, Billy Boy." Molly, the calmer of the two, gave him a sidelong glance. "We still gotta figure out the when and the how. Can't just waltz in there like a couple of clowns." "Why not?" Bill's eyes gleamed. "We wear those goofy outfits, no one would suspect a thing. Everyone loves a clown, right?" "Ugh, no." Molly shuddered. "I hate those painted freaks. Can't we just go in as, I dunno, caterers or something? Blend in, nice and easy." "Caterers?" Bill scoffed. "Where's the fun in that? We're artists, Molly! Our job is to bring a little chaos into this boring, ordered world. And what's more chaotic than two clowns stealing Christmas—I mean, birthday presents?" "Fine," Molly conceded with a roll of her eyes. "We do it your way. But if I see so much as a single red nose, I'm out." "Deal. Now, let's plan this circus."