"Alright, listen up, Molly. I've got the blueprints of the house right here," Bill said, unrolling the oversized paper on the rickety table in their cramped hideout. This was the moment they'd been waiting for—the crowning jewel of their unique career in professional thievery. Molly leaned in, her petite form seemingly unremarkable until you noticed the slew of tools and gadgets hidden beneath her baggy clothes. "This is the layout of the Westenhouse mansion, where Liam turns six tomorrow. From what I can gather, both his parents are out of town for the weekend, so we'll have the place to ourselves," Bill said, his finger tracing the path to the designated party area. "I'm in love," Molly drawled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Tell me about the security. Do we need to worry about guard bears or a moat?" Bill snorted. "An moat? On the Upper East Side? Please. But there is security—a lone, aging butler called Allan, who will presumably be otherwise occupied with making sure the gorging children don't ruin the house. The presents will be in the library on the west wing." "Got it. So what's the plan?" "Simple: get in through the attic window, make our way down to the library via the dumbwaiter, load up on the loot and out we go, via the servant's entrance," Bill explained, a trademark grin spreading across his bearded face. Molly hummed. "Classic. I thought you were over that whole 'room by room' shtick." "Can't kill a good thing, my friend. Now," he pulled out a large map of the neighborhood, "here's where we'll have our wheels waiting for us. One person can carry maybe a dozen toy boxes, tops. We'll have to work quickly." This was one reason Molly loved working with Bill - he always had a plan B, C and D. "Ok, how do we know when the festivities will be at their peak?" Molly prodded a particularly throbbing freckle on her left cheek, a tic she'd developed. "According to my intel, the birthday cake will be out at precisely 8pm. That's our cue to make our move." Molly's face split into a toothy grin. "Splendid. Sounds like this kid really knows how to put together a party. What can we expect in cost of goods?" "Listen to this," Bill started, his eyes dancing with mirth. "Manasquin toddler dolls, ride along ponies, Superhero League sets. We're looking at somewhere between 10 and 15 grand if we can get them out unscathed." He paused, a heavy-footed silence falling between the shipmates. "You sure you're up for this?" Bill had to ask. Molly's smile never wavered. "Bill, when am I not up for lining my pockets with free money?" Her eyes darted across the room. "Just one thing though- that servo room in the attic is a sticking point I'm a bit concerned about." "We'll make do. For 10Gs, I'd freehand it," Bill took her chin in his meaty palm and offered a light kiss that scrapped stubble on her own. *** *** *** There was no error in the prose.