Molly unfolded the party invitation, a garish explosion of cartoon characters and screaming fonts. "Okay, so we've got a kiddie bash at the mini-mansion on Elm Street. Presents galore, and the owner's too busy Instagramming to notice us." Bill rubbed his hands together. "I love the naivety of the one-percenters. They think a bouncy castle is enough to keep us out." Molly snorted. "You're just in it for the cake." "I resent that. I have a highly developed sense of nostalgia for sugary snacks. Now, what's the layout?" "According to my inside source – aka the catering waiter – the presents are stashed in the playroom. Easy in, easy out, as long as we avoid the face-painting station." Bill shuddered. "Those adults with glittery mustaches give me the heebie-jeebies." Molly chuckled. "You're just worried about getting a butterfly tattoo on your cheek." "Oh, shut up. I'd make a great butterfly." Bill sulked, scribbling on the invitation. "I'm adding 'no face paint' to the plan." Molly raised an eyebrow. "You know that's not going to be a thing, right?" "Hey, a thief can dream."