The dim light of a single bulb buzzed overhead as Molly and Bill crouched beside a half-crumbled brick wall in the back alley of Sunnyville's grandest mansion. "Fifty-fifty, Bill," Molly whispered, narrowing her eyes to pinpoint the exact location of Target Alpha—a towering oak tree marked with a golden ribbon flapping in the evening breeze. "You're sweating so much, it looks like a startled pig on ice," Bill joked, trying to ease the tension. Molly rolled her eyes. "If you're going to make animal puns, Bill, at least try to be original." "I thought 'elephantly cool' was pretty darn unique," Bill retorted, narrowing his eyes, which were now resembling two chocolate malted milkshakes. "Oh, stop with your terrible comedy act," Molly snapped. "This isn't some kiddie target—it's a high-end children's party. The parents don't even know we exist." "Exactly my point," Bill chuckled. "The liberated loot will be all theirs. Not that I'm against a midnight snack..." "No, Bill, focus," Molly replied sharply, "The birthday girl is probably having her make-believe tea party in the other room, blissfully unaware of her life about to take a reality check." "Speaking of life checks, I think I'll take a swan dive into Molly's side now," Bill quipped, evoking a surprised gasp from a passing fisherman. Molly glanced at him, her expression turning from shock to annoyance. "That joke has flown its course, Bill." "Alright, no more jokes," Bill said, feigning seriousness. "So, the plan, as I understand it, is for you to perch on Target Alpha and keep an eye out while I infiltrate the party." "Affirmative. Your stealth skills are well-known throughout the felon underworld, aren't they?" Molly teased. "And you're the diplomat whisperer, barging into high-stake negotiations armed with nothing but favoritism and persuasion," Bill quipped back. Once they finished their banter, the dinner plate-sized diamond necklace eagerly displayed in Molly's eyes gleamed a promotion to 'Honorary Jewel Thief'. Bill responded by raising a toast with his hand, his slick, dark hair casting a dramatic shadow on his face. "Ah, my worthy accomplice," Bill said, sobering up, "let's not linger here any longer. Our child's dreams are at stake—oh wait, they aren't our children, but really, no harm in stretching it a bit for morale." "Touching sentiment." Molly grinned. "Now onto business." The duo prepared for the heist of the century, exchanging smarter jokes and sharper retorts as they strategized. The night was their canvas, the children's party their masterpiece, and the stakes? Immeasurable.