Molly nervously paced back and forth in front of Bill, who sat at a dingy kitchen table, sketching a floor plan of the luxurious mansion hosting the children's party. "You know, Bill, this is going to be our biggest score yet." Bill, his pencil pausing, looked up over his glasses. "Don't worry, Molly. We've pulled off crazier things." She sighed deeply, and rolled her eyes. "Like mermaid school or the pet boutique full of trained beavers?" Bill chuckled as he resumed sketching, "Exactly. And we got away with more loot than a pirate with ten chests." Molly sat down, pretending to examine the map. "All right. So this mansion, it looks quite large. How do you plan on slipping in undetected during a party full of kids?" "Simple, sweet-cheeks, we've got two options. We could either come in as clowns, go downright literal with 'kidnapping' the presents, or dress up as catering staff." "Clowns? You're kidding, right? Clown phobia is a legitimate fear, Bill." "Fine, fine. Catering it is. We'll blend right in with the rest of the staff." Bill marked 'Catering Entrance' on the map. "And the presents? How do we get them out without anyone noticing?" she asked. Bill smirked. "Genius idea. We pack full trays of 'spaghetti' in giant tubs, then load them into a van disguised as a legitimate catering delivery." "Well, seems foolproof to me," Molly conceded, "but what if we run into a problem?" He shrugged, tapping his pencil against the map. "I've already accounted for contingency, my dear Molly. Stun guns, gas canisters, and plenty of sedatives." "Huh, I like this plan," she said, tapping the map. "So, we're infiltrating during the party peak, aren't we?" "Yep. Maximum chaos. They'll be too occupied with cake and presents to notice two extra adults." "And we need to be armed for the kids. They're notorious for squealing if they sense something amiss." Molly indicated. Bill grinned, spreading his hands. "Relax, we're bringing an excessive amount of bribes. Candy, toys, the works." "Alright," Molly accepted, "But this mansion's security is supposed to be tight. What's our plan for that?" "I've already acquired the details. The owners trust this event planner implicitly, who in turn employs trusted staff. No perimeter guards, only the wandering eye of the parents." "The owners are out of town, right?" Molly double-checked. Bill nodded as he gathered his sketches. "Yep. This is a perfect setup with minimal risk. We're in and out, lickety-split." "Well, I have one more concern. How much can we net from selling these presents, Bill?" "Molly, these aren't normal presents. We're talking designer bicycles, hand-carved wooden toys, gaming consoles, big-budget lot. A lump sum we can't refuse." "Alright then, sign me up." Molly grinned. "Let's just pray the clowns don't show up." She snickered at her own joke. "Cheeky," Bill deadpanned, "but perhaps that'd make our job easier. Distract the munchkins while we vacate." "Too easy to spot, though." Molly shook her head. "Bottom line, we're set as caterers. What do I need to bring?" "You'll need a cheap hair dye for the catering uniforms, and maybe some face paint for convincing nametags," Bill said as he stood. "I'll handle the van and the costumes. See you tomorrow, Molly. Rest up, it's going to be a wild night." "Bring on the spoils," Molly replied with a wink. "See you then, Bill." Molly left the run-down apartment, already envisioning the neatly stacked presents in her mind. Bill chuckled and locked the door behind her, satisfied with their conversation and plan. His fingers danced over his phone, setting the stage for their grand finale. They'd feast on silverware and rare pawns in no time—a heist to remember.