"Alright, Bill-o, that there's the target." Molly, the short and sassy one with a penchant for hats, pointed at a garishly decorated house at the end of the street. It was the epitome of suburban affluence, complete with a bouncy castle in the backyard and streams of screaming children pouring out its doors. Bill, a lanky chap with the demeanor of a mopey seagull, sighed. "A kid's party, Molly? Really? We're stooping this low?" "We're thieves, Bill, not charitable donors," she shot back. "Besides, I hear ol' man Smoothfingers is hired for this gig too. We get in there before him, we're in for a real treat." Bill shrugged, the prospect of besting their rival thief-for-hire, Smoothfingers, just enough to pique his interest. "Okay, so we're both of the same desperate mind. How do we crack this nut?" Molly grinned, her hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, my depressed seabird, it just so happens I have a plan." She motioned to a nearby tree, its branches almost touching the house's second floor. "You're going to go in through the window over there, silent as that refrigerator-burglar you're named after." "Wait, wait, wait," Bill interjected, "I've been practicing my ninja skills, I can—" "I think I'll let the air conditioning unit climbing and glass-cutting expert—" she gestured at Bill's