The dimly lit alleyway reeked of stale beer and cigarette butts, but Molly and Bill didn't seem to mind. They were too busy poring over the blueprints, their faces illuminated by the flickering glow of a nearby streetlamp. "So, we're gonna crash this kiddie party and make off with the loot?" Bill asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Molly nodded, her lips curling into a sly grin. "Yep. Those spoiled brats won't know what hit 'em." "But what about the parents?" Bill scratched his stubbly chin. "Won't they be there?" "Pfft, leave 'em to me," Molly scoffed. "I'll distract them with my famous 'lost puppy' routine. They'll be putty in my hands." Bill chuckled, shaking his head in admiration. "You're a devious one, Molls. But what if the kids put up a fight? You know how territorial they can get over their toys." Molly's grin widened. "Then we'll hit 'em with the ol' one-two punch – a taste of their own medicine. Water balloons and squirt guns at the ready." They shared a conspiratorial laugh, already savoring the sweet taste of victory. Tomorrow's heist promised to be a wild ride, and they wouldn't have it any other way.