Bill stretched his hands above his head, his knuckles popping in satisfaction as he yawned widely, a gesture that made Molly cringe with imagined jaw pain. She had always been a little OCD about cleanliness, and the thought of all the germs her partner-in-crime was attracting to his person made her shudder. But there was no time to chastise him for his poor hygiene now; they had a job to do, and time was ticking. "Right, Molly, me old china," Bill began, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that he no doubt believed to be suave and convincing, "We've got the layout of the place, the guest list, and even the seemingly endless shopping list of party snacks Mrs. Bernstein is due to get in tomorrow. It's all systems go!" "You forget, Bill, this is not a simple warehouse break-in or a routine jewels-and-cash score. This is a kids' party. There'll be parents, toddlers, pre-teens, probably even some teenagers too cool to celebrate a fifth birthday but too bored to stay at home. Kids' parties are chaotic, Bill, and they're full of witnesses." Molly's tone was exasperated; she had been tasked with educating Bill on the subtleties of this unique job, a fact that never failed to make her shake her head in wonder. "But that's the beauty of it, luv," Bill countered, leaning forward in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. "Everyone will be so busy with the chaos of the party, they won't even notice us! Little Timmy opens his presents, and while everyone's cooing over the latest plastic, battery-operated monstrosity, we make our move. In and out, bob's your uncle." "It's never that simple, Bill. Children are unpredictable, and parents can be worse. Plus, this is a particularly posh area; these parents will have cameras, and everyone will want a photo with the birthday boy and his gifts. We won't be able to just saunter over and grab some gifts. They'll be watched." Molly's fingers tapped rapidly on the arm of her chair, betraying her anxiety, but her expression remained stoic. "Ah, but that's where our genius comes in," Bill proclaimed, slapping his palm against his thigh for emphasis. "We pose as photographers! I'll wear a suit, get myself a nice fancy camera. You can be my... assistant, yes, and you'll set up the little studio with the backdrop and whatnot. We'll get all the kids to pose with the presents, then we make a swift exit with the goodies." "What about the photos?" Molly asked, unable to keep the doubt from her voice. "We'd have to send them to the parents later, and that's a trail." "Ah, good point, very good point," Bill conceded, scratching his stubble-covered chin. "We just get the agency to hire actual photographers. We'll show up as extra hands, 'cause let's face it, no one turns down extra help at a kid's party, then we make our move and let the pros do the snapping." As Molly and Bill continued to iron out the details, their enthusiasm built. They had to admit, this was quite possibly the wildest, most challenging gig they had ever taken on. Stealing from a bunch of kids? They really were brilliant masterminds, or simply the biggest fools in the game. Only time would tell.