Molly poured over the layout of the children's party venue, her eyes scanning the cartoon character decorations and ball pit. Bill leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as he watched her. The smell of stale coffee wafted through the cramped, dingy planning room. "Alright, so the piñata is at two o'clock, the crafts table is at eleven, and the present table is dead center," Molly muttered to herself, her brow furrowed in concentration. Bill pushed off the wall and ambled over to the table, his eyes fixed on the blueprints. "You know, I never thought I'd be the type to steal from kids," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice. Molly's gaze flicked up to his, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Hey, it's not like we're stealing their lunch money. These are obscenely wealthy parents we're talking about. Those presents are going to be top-shelf. Besides," she added, a sly grin spreading across her face, "those kids will just get more stuff anyway." Bill raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, his expression skeptical. Molly's gaze returned to the layout, her mind whirring with the details of their plan.