Molly adjusted the spare tire iron in her pocket, a nervous tic she developed over years of pilfering panties from clotheslines. “You sure about this, Bill?” “Relax, Moll. It’s just a bunch of sugar-crazed toddlers and their distracted parents,” Bill mumbled, picking at a thread on his too-tight pants. “Besides, what’s more deserving than stealing from folks who buy overpriced plastic trinkets for kids who’ll forget them by next week?” She eyed him skeptically. Bill, despite his years as a master pickpocket, had the moral compass of a compass constantly spinning wildly. “You really think they'll notice they've got one less, uh, singing giraffe?” Bill snorted. "They’re too busy trying to keep those tiny whirlwinds from unraveling the entire bounce house. Trust me, a missing giraffe will be the least of their worries.” He cracked his knuckles and surveyed the scene: a flurry of distorted polka music, children screaming in delight and desperation, and parents looking a mix of ecstatic and actively losing their minds. "Okay, let’s hit it. Stick to the plan." Bill swaggered towards the present table, nonchalantly whistling a tune that sounded suspiciously like "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" played backwards. Molly trailed behind, her face a mask of mild concern masquerading as amusement. She'd be the distraction, a one-woman clown show while Bill swiped the loot. Breathing deeply, she tripped theatrically and cried out, "Oh, woe is me! My shoelace, it hath come undone!" A gaggle of toddlers descended, their eyes wide with concern, one attempting to tie her shoelace with sticky fingers, another offering her a half-eaten cookie as consolation. Bill, in the meantime, was gently lifting a panda plush from a pile, humming merrily to himself. "C’mon, sweetie, let Miss Molly fix her own shoe. She's a very big girl, isn’t she?" The toddlers, momentarily distracted, waddled off to investigate a balloon animal being twisted into the shape of a questionable dog. Molly smirked triumphantly, catching Bill's eye. He winked, two more plushes already tucked under his arm. "How's the loot lookin'?" "Could use a better dinosaur selection, but otherwise, a solid haul,” Bill whispered, shoving another teddy bear into a bulging sack. “Think I spotted a dinosaur with a voice changer. Worth at least a tenner on the black market." "Just be careful," Molly whispered back. “Don't want to rip off little Susie's birthday present. That wouldn't be very nice." Bill laughed, a wicked glint in his eye. "Don't worry, Moll. I'm a professional. I wouldn't dream of it. Besides," he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "it’s all for charity. You know, building the world's first panda-shaped trampoline?" He pointed at the towering inflatable structure a child had inexplicably chosen as a climbing challenge. "Requires a lot of plush animals." Molly rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. He was impossible, truly impossible. But, she had to admit, he always managed to pull off the most ridiculous heist plans with surprising success.