Molly, perched on a rickety park bench, squinted at the balloon-festooned gazebo across the way. "Are you sure this is the right place, Bill?" "Positive, Mol," Bill said, adjusting his oversized fedora. "It's the annual 'Little Miss Sunshine' pageant. Guaranteed to be chock-full of expensive trinkets." "Little Miss Sunshine?" Molly wrinkled her nose. "You're going to steal from a bunch of five-year-olds?" Bill chuckled, a low rumble that shook the crumbs from his threadbare coat. "Don't be silly, Mol. We're not stealing from the kids. We're liberating them from the tyranny of plastic ponies and battery-operated tea sets." "Right," Molly muttered, unconvinced. "And liberating the parents from the burden of paying for all these… 'gifts'." "Exactly!" Bill said, clapping his hands. "Think of the joy it'll bring. A little less consumerism, a little more appreciation for the simple things in life, like… uh… a good heist." Molly snorted. "I still can't believe you're using a stroller as our getaway vehicle." "It's a classic, Mol!" Bill said defensively. "Unassuming, practical, and most importantly, it holds a surprising amount of loot. Plus, come on, it's cute." "Cute? It's a baby carriage, Bill. We're going to look like a couple of escaped baby snatchers with a love for expensive toys." "Details, details," Bill dismissed, pulling a crumpled map from his pocket. "Look, here's the plan. I'll distract the parents by playing a heartwarming rendition of 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' on my ukulele, while you, my dear, will be the stealthy spider – weaving through the crowd, gathering the spoils." "You play the ukulele?" Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be ridiculous," Bill scoffed, stuffing the map back in his pocket. "I'm a master of disguise. I once played a street performer in Venice for a month. I played the ukulele, I played the violin, I even played the… wait, never mind." Molly sighed. "This is going to be a disaster." "Nonsense! We'll be in and out, faster than you can say 'Happy birthday', and with a suitcase full of… well, whatever they call those things…" "They call them loot, Bill," Molly said dryly. Bill grinned. "Yes, yes, loot. It'll be a masterpiece of thievery, worthy of… well, maybe not worthy of our legendary criminal past, but definitely worthy of a good laugh." Molly eyed him warily. "This whole plan feels a bit… childish." Bill threw his arms wide. "The thrill of the heist, the allure of the prize, the thrill of pulling off the impossible… it's the kid in all of us, Mol. Don't tell me you don't have a little bit of larceny in your heart?" Molly paused, a twinkle in her eye. "You know," she said, a mischievous grin spreading across her face, "I might just have a tiny bit…."