"Bill, I'm telling you, this is the perfect gig," Molly whispered, eyes gleaming with mischief. "A kid’s party loaded with unsupervised presents? It’s like a gift from the universe." Bill leaned back, crossing his arms. "And what, exactly, are we supposed to do with a bunch of toys and candy, Molly?" "Resell them, genius. There’s a market for everything, even plastic dinosaurs and lollipops." Bill shook his head. "That's a bit low, even for us. Kids are involved, remember?" "Bill, we’re not hurting anyone. We’re just relocating the goods. Think of it as a redistribution of wealth." "Redistribution, huh? What’s our cover story if someone asks why we’re in a bouncy castle?" "We’ll say we’re clowns. Professional clowns hired to entertain the kids. No one will question a guy in a fake nose." "Right, because I look great in a polka-dotted jumpsuit." "Bill, this is easy money. And think about it—no security cameras, no high-tech alarms. Just a bunch of sugared-up kids who won’t remember a thing after the cake." Bill sighed, reluctantly. "Fine. But if I get arrested for stealing Toys 'R' Us rejects, I’m blaming you." Molly grinned. "Deal. Now, let’s go find some face paint."