Molly and Bill sat across from each other at a dimly-lit diner table. The smell of frying eggs and bacon filled the air, blending oddly with the faint aroma of cigarettes and coffee. “This party's on the west side, right?” Bill asked, twirling a pencil between his fingers. “Yeah, high-end neighborhood. The birthday boy's father is a lawyer or something.” Molly leaned forward, her expression grim. “The harder the place, the better the loot.” “And what's our cut?” Bill brought the pencil to his lips, chewing the eraser absentmindedly. Molly snorted, “Come on, Bill, we’ve been over this. Sixty-forty. You can't expect me to do all the planning for free.” “Alright, alright,” Bill paused, then whispered, “Gimme a rundown; what’s the plan?” Molly’s eyes sparkled at the challenge. “We’ll go in just before the party ends. Most parents are usually in a rush to leave. We'll load the presents into our van while everyone’s distracted. Simple.” Bill's eyes narrowed, “Simple, huh?” A mischievous grin tugged at Molly's lips. She loved the chaos, the planning, the thrill of the steal. Most of all, she loved proving that nothing—not even a children's party—was off-limits for a job well done.