The dimly lit basement smelled of rust and forgotten dreams. Molly, arms crossed, paced in front of a large corkboard plastered with blueprints and photographs of a colorful suburban house. "Okay, Bill, walk me through it again," she said, tapping a pen against her chin. Bill, reclining in a rickety chair, took a slow drag of his cigarette. "We slip in during the mayhem, grab the goods, and slip out. Simple." Molly sighed. "You call crashing a children's birthday party simple?" "Relax, Mol. These rugrats will be too busy bouncing off the walls to notice us." "And the parents?" Bill grinned, a flash of mischief in his eyes. "Distracted by cake and sugary chaos. Trust me, it's the perfect distraction." "Fine," Molly conceded, "but we need to be quick. In and out, no funny business." "When have I ever done funny business?" "Don'tanswer that." Molly grabbed a duffel bag. "Let's go over the layout one more time." Bill groaned but unfolded the blueprints. "Kitchen here, living room here...and the mother lode, the gift table, right by the sliding door." "Which we'll unlock beforehand," Molly added, pointing to a small red X on the diagram.