Molly crouched behind a giant inflatable unicorn in the park, adjusting her mask. She glanced at Bill, who was trying to balance a can of soda on the unicorn’s horn. “Seriously, Bill? Are we stealing gifts or auditioning for a circus?” Molly scoffed. Bill wobbled, reaching out to grab the can before it toppled over. “Hey, it’s part of my stealth routine! You know the best thieves blend in with their surroundings.” “Right,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Because children’s parties are known for their ninja acrobatics. What’s next, cartwheels into the gift table?” “Don’t give me ideas,” he grinned. “Alright, what’s the plan, oh wise leader?” “Simple,” she said, gesturing toward the rainbow of colorful presents stacked beneath a giant banner that read “Happy Birthday, Timmy!” “We wait until the kids get distracted by the balloon animals. That’ll give us at least five minutes.” Bill squinted at a large clown entertaining a group with an impressive balloon dog. “So, we just wait for Timmy to forget his birthday exists… Got it.” “Time’s up!” she said, glancing at her wristwatch. “If we don’t move soon, the whole cake-cutting ritual will throw us off!” “Who knew birthday parties were so strategic?” Bill chuckled. “So I just grab and go, right?” “Yeah,” Molly said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “But try to be subtle about it. Last time, you looked like a raccoon trying to climb a dumpster.” “Okay, okay, subtle it is,” he replied, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “How about this? Distract them!” “Me?” Molly’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to be a distraction? I don’t think they’re ready for that level of chaos.” “Fine!” he said, exasperated. “What about you hum a fun song or something? Like, ‘Happy Birthday’ but… jazz it up!” “Jazz? Really? You want me to improvise a birthday jazz number?” she laughed. “You're lucky I’m not breaking out into interpretive dance.” “Fine, but if it goes sideways, it’s all on you!” he shot back, darting out from behind the unicorn. “Hey, Bill! I need you to keep it down!” Molly hissed as he ran into the open, mimicking the gestures of a bird-watching enthusiast. “What? Too loud?” Bill said, ducking behind a cupcake stand. “I thought this was how you blend in!” “Blending in is not flapping your arms like a turkey!” she exclaimed, unable to suppress a laugh. “Okay, okay! You’re the boss!” Bill said, now flailing like a drowned rat. “But you have to admit, it’s oddly effective at making the kids laugh.” Molly stared at him, shaking her head. “I think we’re trying to distract children, not perform a slapstick comedy routine. Just stay out of the way, for crying out loud!” “What do you got against slapstick?” he whispered loudly, moving closer. “Focus, Bill! We’re here for the loot!” she whispered urgently, adjusting the grip on her bag. “Remember: in and out—like ninjas!” “More like baby ninjas who can’t find their socks!” he teased, peeking around the inflatable unicorn. Molly nodded to the now-distracted crowd of kids, giggling at Bill’s antics. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right!” “Right! Turkeys and baby ninjas, got it!” He grinned. “Less turkey, more stealth,” she corrected as they prepared to sprint for the gifts.