The flickering neon sign above the diner cast a sickly green glow on Molly's face as she leaned across the scratched Formica table. "So, you're sure about this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Bill, his battered fedora pulled low over his eyes, took a long drag from his cigarette. "Sure?" he repeated, exhaling a plume of smoke. "No, I'm not sure. I haven't been sure about anything since I got that tattoo of a unicorn." Molly rolled her eyes. "I meant about the plan. Breaking into a children's party? Sounds like a setup." Bill shrugged. "It's perfect. Think about it. Who'd suspect two hardened criminals stealing presents from a bunch of toddlers?" "Toddlers with overprotective parents," Molly pointed out. "And security cameras." "Details, details." Bill waved a dismissive hand. "We'll be in and out before they know what hit them. Besides, think of the loot. Toy Story action figures, Barbie dream cars, maybe even a pony." Molly laughed. "A pony? You've been watching too much Dora the Explorer." "Hey, you never know," Bill retorted. "Anyway, it's not like we're robbing Fort Knox. It's a bunch of plastic junk." "Plastic junk worth a fortune on eBay," Molly reminded him. "And don't forget the birthday cake. That thing probably cost more than my rent." Bill chuckled. "I'll take the cake. You handle the presents." Molly narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to eat the whole cake, are you?" "Maybe," Bill said with a mischievous grin. "Depends on how good it is." Molly shook her head. "You're impossible." "But I'm your impossible," Bill said, winking. Molly sighed. "Fine. But if this goes south, I'm blaming you." "Deal," Bill said, extending his hand. They shook on it, the shadows of the diner dancing around them. "Now, about that unicorn tattoo..." Molly began, a glint in her eye. "Don't you start," Bill groaned, finishing his cigarette. "Let's just focus on the job."