Molly adjusted the sugar packets on the diner's counter, aligning them with the creamer tubs. Bill blew into his coffee, ripping the paper lid off his to-go cup. "What's the mark, again?" Molly asked, refolding her napkin in quarters. "Benny's Birthday Bash," Bill replied, eyes squinting at the swirling steam. "You know, the kid's party of the season. Moneyed parents, clueless, ripe for the picking." "Ripe for the picking or desperate for a reason to get out of the house?" Molly swirled her straw in her drink. "A little bit of both, if I'm being honest." Bill smiled, poking a straw through the paper lid. "You've seen the invitation – bouncy castle, magician, the works. This thing's gonna be crawling with cash-drenched goods." "I'm picturing it: a mountain of gifts, our own personal landslide of plastic and electronics." Molly's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Still, have you seen the security team they've hired? They look like they're ready for a tactical operation." "Eh, don't worry, they're mostly for show. I know the drill – huddling by the doors, trying to look imposing, checking their watches every five minutes until the free pizza shows up. In, out, done, and on to the sale sections at the mall." Bill took a casual sip of his coffee. "In, out, done – you mean like we actually have a plan?" Molly pursed her lips. "Well, you know what I always say: wing it, make it up as you go. Keeps us on our toes, right?" Bill's grin widened as he ripped open a packet of sugar and poured it into his coffee. "Remind me never to come to you for financial planning." Molly reached out, pinching the sugar packet from his fingers. "I resent that. I've got it down: we sneak in with the help, you grab some wig, knock over a display, diversions yadda yadda. Meanwhile, yours truly quietly raids the gift corner. Boom, out the door before cake time." Bill scribbled something in the margins of his straw wrapper, grinning. "It sounds like we've come close to totally thinking this out," Molly dryly observed. "I told you, we'll improvise – you like that, Molly. What could possibly go wrong at a kiddy birthday extravaganza with six dozen unsupervised kids and me possibly playing Pinata roulette?" Bill chuckled, blowing too loudly into the straw, causing some slosh. Molly couldn't help it – she actually laughed, drawing a fleeting beam of joy from a passing waitress. Bill said, still excited, "Another added advantage: the prize wall of tantrums. Let's sneak in and join that! A couple random tantrum-throwing diversion-bots, yes?" After another small chuckle, Molly cradled her coffee, and for a moment they sat wordlessly. In her imagination, glittering trinkets and Lego bricks built a momentary vision, only quickly eclipsed by some vision of Benny sobbing, cake-melting chaos – all in a day's adventure, if not particularly noble work.