} Molly sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes glued to a stack of blueprints. They were spread eagle in front of her, the lines and measurements swimming together in dizzying patterns. Across the room, Bill was fumbling with a small titanium lock pick set. His fingers were thick and not made for such delicate work. "You know," Bill started, his voice like sandpaper, "I can't help but think this is a silly plan." He dropped the lock pick, sending it spiraling under the couch. Molly didn't look up from the blueprints. "Yes, Bill, but it's also brilliant," she replied. Bill snorted. "Stealing from a children's party? How low can we go?" "We're not stealing from kids," Molly said sharply. "We're stealing from spoiled kids at an over-the-top party hosted by the mayor. We pick the bulk, leave the chaff." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright, I'm in. Just hand me the clown mask and point me to the bounce house."