Molly paced back and forth in the dingy living room, the faded carpet sticking to her black high-heels with each step. She cradled the stolen walkie-talkie in one manicured hand, her brow furrowed in concentration. Across from her, Bill sprawled on a beat-up sofa, guzzling beer straight from the bottle. His stained t-shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing a bumpy back tattoo. "I'm tellin' ya, this'll be a cakewalk," Bill slurred, letting out a belch that smelled of cheap liquor and stale cigarettes. "A buncha snot-nosed brats whinining 'roun' a bouncy castle. Gonna waltz right in 'n grab them presents." Molly shook her head vehemently, long red curls swishing. "No, no, no. It won't be that easy, you idiot. We need a plan." Bill snorted. "Whatev'. I got that." He held up a crumpled napkin covered in barely-legible chicken scratch. "Monkee's Kingdom. 7pm sharp. Bring noise-cancelling 'phones. They got fuckin' Justin Bieber singin' live. Pentso 's gonna be pissed 'bout that, I tell ya." Molly snatched the napkin, eyes widening. "The setColorPrincipalManager! Of course! Louists always attend those charity galas. And with him there, all the high-end donors... We'd have our pick of expensive swag." Her face split into a vicious grin, teeth bared. "Alright Bill, you're right. It's a go. Let's get that pink diamond. And if we're lucky, Bieber's hair-gel too." Bill whooped, doing a clumsy jig in excitement. "Yeah! We did it! This'll show 'em not to screw us over, Molly! Project Pebble Beach, here we come!"