“So let me get this straight,” Molly tapped her red-painted nails against the blueprint spread across her coffee table, “We're crashing Timmy Johnson's 5th birthday party for a stack of giggling pig toys and some Legos?” Bill, sprawled on the floor meticulously polishing his crowbar, didn’t look up. “Don't knock Legos, Moll, they're architectural genius. Besides,” he punctuated his statement with a glint from the polished metal, “Those giggling pigs are collector's items now. Going for at least fifty bucks a pop on eBay.” Molly snorted. “We’re risking jail time for plastic farm animals?” Bill finally looked up, an eyebrow raised. “Moll, darling, when you run with the best, you gotta think like a toddler obsessed with snorting noises.”