Molly paced back and forth, biting her nails, her eyes darting between Bill and the depiction of the party's layout sprawled across a crumpled map. "Alright, so we've got Bobby's big birthday bash in six days. The presents are said to be piled high in an empty bedroom." Bill's long fingers traced a route with a greasy pinkie, "There's only one door to that wing, and it's monitored by a damn camera mounted above. Disable the camera, pick the lock, slip past the ten-year-old, and we snag the swag—piece of cake." Molly snorted, "And the ten-year-old delinquent, who keeps watch over all the loot, Billy?" "We'll knock him out." Bill's smile was wickedly mischievous. "But first, we need invitations. Barbara's coming, right? She didn't want a present for her kid, which means she can bring us along under the guise of 'morally obligated adult supervision.'" "Alright, Barbara it is. We'll drug the cake and cut a piece for the kid then slip in once everyone's busy snacking." Molly started to grin. "Watching grown-ups lose control around free pizza is hilarious." "It'll be a cake walk." Bill laughed, cringing at his own wordplay. "The only wrinkle is this whole 'no gifts over one-hundred dollars' rule. We might—" "Wait-wait-wait. No one ever follows this rule!" Molly held up a hand. "Plus, Bobby's friends'll bring over the good stuff to outdo each other. The presents always multiply. So we'll split up, doughn't we?" "One hundred percent. We leave through opposite exits; no one will be the wiser." Bill smirked. "Then, holy heist, Batman, we'll ride off into the night on our galloping getaway car." "Brilliant, just brilliant." Molly beamed. "The real question is, what do we do with all these toys when we're done, Bill?" "Sell 'em, of course. But that's a problem for Future Us. It's the heist that matters, Molly. Lift the loot and leave 'em mystified."