The sun beat down on the packed street, squeezing out every last drop of enjoyment from the otherwise joyous atmosphere. Children's laughter and squeals of delight mixed with the sweet scent of funnel cakes and sugary snacks. Molly adjusted the van's tinted windows, dampening the cacophony. Next stop: kids' party headquarters. Inside, Bill unwrapped a box of fake mustaches from the glove compartment, began rearranging his and Molly's features with lazy strokes. A bushy eyebrow made him look indecisive, a handlebar 'stache sporty. "Got the recon pictures?" he asked, straightening his disguise. Molly pulled out her phone, swiping through images of the venue's layout. "Security's a breeze – one lazy guard, an empty side door. Tape myself up to the catering cart, roll in with the cake, and nobody'll suspect a thing. We should make off with the loot in under five." Bill scratched his chin area, worked on smoothing out a dusting of gray hairs on his spine. "I knew you'd see it my way. It's all about finding the sweet spots. Party favors, juice boxes... it's a candy-coated score. Pity we can't steal the smiles anymore." "That's okay, least there'll be enough cake to go around," Molly said, vacant-eyed.