The tree in the backyard was a mess of purple and pink balloons, a sticky, sweet-smelling nightmare. Molly crouched behind a swing set, adjusting the lock pick in her hand. Bill paced in front of her, his arms crossed. "So, just to recap, we break in, grab as many presents as we can, and get out before the sugar-overload chaos ensues." Molly peeked out from behind the swing set. "You're making this too easy. I'm the one who uses sugar to fuel my planning process." Bill snorted. "Chocolate, specifically. And acid. And you know the difference." Bill chuckled. "Apparently not, considering we're planning to hit a kid's birthday party." Molly was already up to her knees in the grass. "It's not about the skill; it's about the malware spatula I set up on the PA system to keep the kids distracted." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You set up an exit clause." "The sarcastic remarks. If anything goes amiss, the DJ will play an endless loop of 'Happy Birthday' while we make our getaway." Bill grunted. "Worst-case scenario horrors never get old." "Pulling off a platinum lamé vest while sewing shut myself in" Molly burst out laughing.