Molly and Bill huddled shady figures inside a dingy, dimly-lit room. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the lingering smell of stale alcohol. "Alright, Billy-boy, listen up. We're breaking into a children's party tonight. Not a bank or a jewelry store. A kids' party." Molly stressed each syllable like she was announcing the craziest idea in the history of ideas, her eyes peering through the acrid haze. Bill scratched his chin, feigning thoughtfulness. "Isn't that, kind of... below our pay grade?" "Don't be such a stick in the mud, Bill. Look at it this way, these kids'll never notice until after the party. By then, it'll be too late." Molly's eyes sparked with the gleam of greed. "And a bunch of action figures, dolls, and board games might not make up some big-ticket item like the Mona Lisa, but if we sell it right, we're looking at serious coin." "But won't they know if their presents are missing?" Bill's concern was apparent in his voice. "Far as we can tell, the parents only hand out big tickets at the end of the party. Until then, the kiddo's all believe their presents are under the tree. We'll be in and out before it ends. No one'll be the wiser." Molly had a plan and it was rigid, no wiggle room for argument. "And the guests? Kids can be loud, you know, right? One resounding 'mommy!' from the peanut gallery could be our death knell," Bill was clearly skeptical. "Relax, Bill. I got you a little something to help with that." Molly delicately pulled a homemade tranquilizer dart gun from her coat pocket. "A few well-placed darts, and no one will be any the wiser. Besides," she motioned to the timetable scribbled on a napkin, "their nap time and our heist time align perfectly." "Hey, now that's... ingenious," Bill snatched the napkin and studied it intently. "Except, how do we get in? The place is in the suburbs. Not exactly our jam." Molly grinned through a cloud of smoke, revealing a set of crooked teeth. "It's a children's party, remember? Clowns, face painters, you name it. We'll dress up as one of their performers and mingle. We can even use the costume to our advantage. Blow up some balloons, create a distraction, do a magic trick. We'll be in and out before the balloon deflates." Bill looked impressed despite himself. "I see what you did there. I'll need a clown suit, then." "You got it. Now, pick up the pace." Molly's tone wavered between encouraging and sharp. "We've got a party to infiltrate, Billy-boy." Later that night, Bill nervously donned a neon yellow clown suit in an alley. Molly, dressed in a vibrant red number with white polka dots, eyed him scornfully. "What? No piercing blue makeup like me, eh? Feeling a slight bit insecure in your clown shoes?" "Shut it, Molly. Red looks better on you." Bill pouted, his hands now working furiously to tuck balloons into his side. "How many of these do I need?" Molly laughed. "Load up. We'll need those tranqs, and we might as well throw in some chaos while we're at it. But first, two balloons for the birthday boy and girl. Aim to capture—"she elbowed him—"their attention." Molly punctuated her statement with a violent 'pop' of a balloon, a loud squeal of panic, followed by giggles from the alley cats that surrounded them. "Alright, lets blow this pop stand, Molly," Bill quipped, trying to lighten the mood, while finishing the final tie on his oversized shoes. "Hope those shoes fit," Molly quipped back, delivering a casual punch to his shoulder as their robotic groove started. Arriving at the scene, Molly stood back while Bill charmed the children. He juggled, made silly faces, and even preformed a few tricks with the tranquilized balloons, sneaking them into mouths of unsuspecting kids while the party thrived. Molly watched from the corner, cutting through the wrapping paper, freed the goods, and stowed them in a stealthily hidden backpack. In certain rhythm, they finished in record time. Molly slipped a last balloon into a poor baby's mouth as Bill raised both hands, clapping for the eager audience. A fit of crying and somnolence spread, quickly followed by sleep. Molly whispered, "This is a heist for the ages, Bill." The two thieves sneaked out, backpacks full, with not a single soul the wiser. Once they were gone, the slumbering children and oblivious parents remained engrossed in cake and charade. Bill, sweating bullets, cackled, "I think we may have a future in heists, Molly." "Now who's the stick in the mud?" Molly grinned as they vanished into the night.