Molly adjusted the wig, a bright pink monstrosity with a bow that seemed to be perpetually askew. Bill, resplendent in a yellow t-shirt with a cartoon character emblazoned on it, eyed her warily. "You know, Molly, we've pulled off some big scores in our time," he said, "but this one takes the cake. Or rather, the mediocre birthday cake with the sad, store-bought ice cream." Molly snorted. "Hey, don't knock the ice cream. It's the perfect getaway food." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You're going to eat a brick of generic ice cream right before a high-pressure heist? You're a genius, girl." They were standing in front of the children's party, located in a cramped, windowless room above a tattoo parlor. The sound of shrieking kids and tinny muzak drifted out from within. "Okay, here's the plan," Molly said, unfolding a scribbled-on map. "You create a diversion at the birthday boy's cake-eating ritual while I slip into the presents and grab as many as I can carry." Bill nodded, a glint in his eye. "You know, for a smart thief, I always forget the part where you get caught up in the mosh pit of overexcited seven-year-olds." Molly grinned, a plan already forming in her mind. "That's the beauty of it, Bill. You're going to be the one getting covered in glitter and sweat."