Molly traced the layout of the children's party on the tattered map. "Here," she said, tapping a spot near the perimeter, "is where we'll breach." Bill leaned in, his balding head reflecting the dim light. "Why there? It's a busy area." "Exactly. The chaos will cover our tracks. We'll be in and out before anyone knows." "And if it's a trap?" Molly smiled. "Every heist is a gamble, Bill. We got past the guard dogs and the motion sensors. We'll handle a few kids." Bill chuckled. "Yeah, and if they see us? 'Molly stole our presents'—not exactly a front-page headline." "They won't. We're slicker than a circus clown's waxed mustache." Bill frowned. "Now you're reaching for analogies." "Just making sure you're alert. Focus." "Always am. But if this goes south, it’s your funeral in the headlines." Molly mock-punched his shoulder. "Smart aleck. Let's make it swift." Bill nodded, grabbing two sacks. "Swift and silent. Ready?" "Ready." She led the way out, a filter mask disguising her face. Bill followed, muttering about the quality of doughnuts for the heist checklist.