The room was a cluttered nest of maps, half-drunk coffee mugs, and a whiteboard scribbled with fanciful heist plans. Molly, with her hair tied up in a messy bun, was pacing back and forth, her eyes scanning a detailed blueprint of the party venue. Bill, lounging on an old armchair, idly twirled a lock pick between his fingers. "Are you sure about this, Molly?" Bill asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. "A children’s party? Really?" Molly stopped mid-pace and turned to him with a grin. "Think about it, Bill. What better place to find a treasure trove of unguarded, high-value items? We’re talking about the latest gadgets, trendy toys, and maybe even a few hundred dollars in cash." Bill raised an eyebrow. "And what if the kids get in the way?" "Bill, we’re professionals. We’ll time it just right, when they’re all distracted by the clown or the cake. It’s the perfect opportunity." "Alright, I’m in," Bill said, sitting up. "But if we end up in juvenile hall, I’m blaming you." Molly chuckled and clapped him on the back. "Don’t worry, we’ll be in and out before you can say 'pin the tail on the donkey'."