Billy nervously paced the room, hands in his pockets, eyes darting. "I don't know, Molls. Marketing a fur coat to kids? How's that gonna fly?" Molly flopped onto the sagging couch, exhaling loudly. "Focus, dummy. Them presents ain't for sellin', we're gonna fence 'em all. First, we case the joint. "It's basically Fort Knox in there. Security cameras, alarms, the works," Billy said, waving his hands. "How we gonna get in?" "Rope. Ladder. Stubborn willpower. Duh," Molly replied, popping her gum. Billy arched an eyebrow. "You always were great with details..." "Don't (BLEEP) the bed, Billy. We didn't survive Fritter's jamboree by overthinkin'. Just do as I say." "Yep, good times," Billy reminisced. "They found my commission in Festus's hat." "Ah, shut up and get to work." Billy sighed, trundling off to the workshop. Molly snatched her phone and began texting. She had a cake to bake, a disguise to prepare, and a heist to execute. And she hated delayed gratification.