Molly glanced at her watch, then whispered to Bill, "We're cutting it close, partner. The sun's setting, and we can't have any witnesses stumbling onto us." Bill, huddled beside her, adjusted the bulky coat on his frame. "Don't you worry, Molly. We've got this down to a science." They crouched behind a railway barrier, peering over its worn wood at the sprawling children's birthday party unfolding before them. Cartoon balloons tangled with patriotic bunting and helium-filled figures bumped into each other in the gentle breeze. The sound of giggles and thumping music mingled with the distant hum of the city. A small knot of adults formed a protective ring around the main attraction: a pile of brightly wrapped presents. Molly's eyes glittered greedily. "Think we can make off with all of it?" Bill smirked, revealing a gap where his front tooth used to be. "That's the plan. We hit, grab and run like a well-oiled yap." The 'yap' was a nod to their preferred method of operation: using high-pitched vocal audibles to stun guards and create a diversion. Molly appreciated his confidence, but she still glanced back at the railway line repeatedly, checking they'd not left any obvious traces. They'd skipped a couple of fences, and if the partygoers noticed any disturbances, they were doomed. The pair waited until the adults converged on the piñata, swinging the sweet-spiked beast with gusto. "Now's our chance," Bill stage-whispered. Molly gave a final check of the immediate area, then led the charge. They sprinted across the promenade, weaving between excited children. A few glanced up, unimpressed, as the couple—Molly in her fashionable, practical hiking gear and Bill, resplendent in a delightful afro wig—ran straight into their operation. Molly reached the gift table first, boxing out a swaddled mother attempting a sneaky swap. She splashed a compression spray onto a clutch of presents, folding them into her coat in short order. Bill joined in, his massive arms hoisting bulging bags as deftly as any pro quarterback. An unbalanced infant wobbled dangerously, but he caught the little tyke with a practiced swivel of his hips. Their swiping motion sent remaining presents rolling, disrupting the party's momentum. Parents focused on shushing and comforting their toppled offspring, leaving the children's main attraction abandoned. Bill handed Molly two, three, four packages, her coat straining. The corner flaps bulged like a vacuum-sealed food packaging. Molly glanced nervously at the railway line, then routed them toward the barrier. "A problem?" Bill asked, stuffing an oversized teddy bear beneath an arm. Molly eyed a young couple downing beers, oblivious to the mayhem. "Forgot the chatting Chloe on the far left—she's the last unclaimed present." Bill arrested her mid-pull. "Hey, we agreed—" "Presents for the party-crashers?" A beaming woman strolled up, a bottle of soda dangling from each finger. "You two must be the fabulous gift organizers I've heard so much about." Her smile stretched too thin. Molly blinked, sizing up these unexpected rivals. Bill's voice turned saccharine. "Yeah! We're just, uh, making sure every child gets something special today!" The woman extended a hand, her grin slipping. "I'm Olivia. Party planner extraordinaire. And you two are—?" Molly curtsied, name-dropping their aliases. "I'm Amanda, the fabulous and debonair Bill here is my partner, Derek." Olivia's gaze flicked between them, comprehension weighing her expression. "Well, Amanda and Derek, it seems we've got some explaining to do. Outside, now." Customers caught some joy when strangers brought joy: Those honest with fruitcakes trying to fake. She echoed down the block, and even Molly winced. In an alternate timeline, they'd face human guile and wit, scheme their way to freedom—perhaps—and succeed in their mission. Instead, a line of disappointment wound through the party's windings, serpentining over a barren stretch of abandoned joy. Molly made a desperate appeal to Bill. "It's not the end of our yarn! This party's not our final spree." Bill displayed an unreadable smile. "You know as well as I do, Molly girl, when the yarn's unraveled, it's time to cut our losses." With an ironic flourish, they surrendered their pilferage to Olivia, receiving only a wan thank-you in return. Molly bounced a regretful smile onto the presents as they disappeared inside. Bill's nod suggested that tonight, instead of grand celebration, they'd ride the rails, counting their blessings in whispers and gauging their next move. Escaping baggage, we shouldn't weigh ourselves; Life's looser audiences tend to impose fines.