The greasy spoon diner buzzed with the clatter of plates and murmur of morning chatter. Molly stirred a lukewarm cup of coffee, her reflection shimmering back at her from the chipped surface. “You sure about this, Billy?” she asked, her voice low. Across the table, Bill slumped further into his booth, his usual manic energy dimmed. “Of course I’m sure, Moll,” he grumbled, picking at a stray French fry. "Think of the loot! Toys, video games, maybe even a pony ride voucher. It's practically begging to be stolen.” Molly raised a skeptical eyebrow. “A pony ride voucher? You think they’ll have those at Ellie's sixth birthday party?" Bill waved his hand dismissively. "Details, Molly. Details. Point is, it's a kids' party. Security will be lax. Parents will be distracted by cake and clowns. It’s practically a walk in the park.” “Except it's a five-year-old's birthday party, not a walk in the park.” Molly sighed. "And they'll have bouncy castles, remember? You fall into one of those, dressed like your usual charming self, and the jig is up. We'll be lucky if they don't deflate you like a discarded balloon animal." Bill pouted. "Look," Molly said, softening her tone, "I get it. We need a score, alright? But maybe we should aim a little higher. A museum heist? A high-stakes poker game? Something with a little more… cachet, you know?" Bill choked on his coffee, sputtering. "Museum? Poker? Where's the fun in that? Where’s the challenge? Besides," he whispered conspiratorially, "I need a new scooter. This one's got a wobbly wheel, and I'm tired of looking like a drunk teapot on wheels." Molly rolled her eyes. “You prioritize your transportation needs over everything, don't you?" “Of course,” Bill said proudly. "A man’s gotta get around in style. Anyway, don't worry," he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've got a foolproof plan.” He leaned across the table, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "We go in as clowns." Molly stared at him, speechless. Across the dusty diner, a waitress cleared her throat loudly, an awkward laughter crackling through the air. Imagining them, dressed in oversized shoes and painted faces, bulldozing their way through a six-year-old's birthday party, Molly couldn't help but crack a smile. It was ridiculous. It was insane. It was perfect. “Alright, Bill,” she finally said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Let’s go steal some toys. And maybe a pony ride voucher.”