Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the bouncy castle bobbing in the front yard of the suburban home. Next to her, Bill fidgeted with his fake mustache, ensuring it was firmly attached to his upper lip. "Remind me again why we're targeting a kid's birthday party?" Bill asked, his voice muffled by the bushy mustache. Molly rolled her eyes. "Because, genius, kids' parties are goldmines. Parents trying to outdo each other with expensive gifts? It's like a Black Friday sale, but with less security." Bill nodded, still looking uncertain. "But won't we feel bad? I mean, stealing from kids..." "Oh, grow up," Molly snapped. "We're thieves, not moral philosophers. Now, run me through the plan one more time." Bill sighed and straightened his bowtie. "Right. I go in as the magician, distract the rugrats with some sleight of hand. You sneak in through the back as the caterer's assistant, locate the gift table, and start stuffing presents into your oversized chef's hat." "Good," Molly said, applying a final touch of lipstick. "And if anyone gets suspicious?" "I pull out the big guns – the disappearing act. While everyone's looking for the 'vanished' birthday boy, we make our grand exit." Molly grinned, revealing teeth as sharp as her ambition. "Perfect. Let's go make some children cry." They exited the car, Bill lugging his prop bag and Molly balancing a tray of cupcakes. As they approached the house, the sounds of shrieking children and popping balloons filled the air. "I'm having second thoughts," Bill muttered. Molly elbowed him in the ribs. "Shut up and smile. We're about to give these brats a birthday they'll never forget." They reached the front door, and Molly rang the bell. A frazzled-looking woman answered, her hair in disarray and a smear of frosting on her cheek. "Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed. "You must be the magician and... wait, who are you?" Molly flashed her most charming smile. "Catering assistant, ma'am. Last-minute addition. Where shall I put these cupcakes?" The woman waved vaguely towards the back of the house. "Kitchen's that way. And you," she said, turning to Bill, "the kids are getting restless. Work your magic!" As they entered the chaos of the party, Molly whispered, "Showtime, partner. Don't mess this up." Bill gulped and nodded, then plastered on a grin as he approached the horde of sugar-fueled children. "Who wants to see some magic?" he called out, his voice cracking slightly. Molly slipped away towards the kitchen, her eyes already scanning for the prize – the gift table. She spotted it in the corner of the living room, piled high with brightly wrapped packages. As Bill's voice rose in an exaggerated "Abracadabra!" Molly began her own performance, deftly lifting presents and concealing them in her oversized hat and apron pockets. Suddenly, a small voice piped up behind her. "What are you doing with my presents?" Molly froze, then slowly turned to face a tiny girl in a princess dress, her eyes wide with suspicion. "Well, sweetheart," Molly said, thinking fast, "I'm the present inspector. I have to make sure all your gifts are... safe." The girl's lower lip trembled. "But those are mine!" Molly glanced desperately at Bill, who was struggling to pull a rabbit out of his hat while a group of unimpressed children booed. It was time for Plan B.