Molly leaned against the wall, eyeing Bill with a mix of amusement and annoyance. "You can't be serious. A children's party? That's like inviting us to our own personal hostage situation." Bill held up his hands, palms outwards. "Hey, it's a high-stakes heist. Think about it: one location, dozens of presents, and not a single alarm system inside the perimeter." Molly raised an eyebrow. "The perimeter isn't just about the building, Bill. It's about our collective sanity." Bill snorted. "You're just worried because you remember that one time at the bouncy castle festival when you freaked out and had to be escorted out for 'reorganizing the noise-making toys'?" Molly shot him a frosty glare. "That was one incident, and I was under sniper fire from an overzealous DJ." Bill chuckled and scribbled notes on a crumpled piece of paper. "Alright, alright, we'll make a plan. We hit during naptime. Slip in, grab the presents, and make a beeline for the escape route without getting caught." Molly crossed her arms. "And what about the caterer team? They seem like the type to notice if someone's sneaking around in a party hat." Bill grinned mischievously. "Leave that to me. I have a plan for the catering team too. I'll pose as the children's face painter with a clipboard full of, uh, 'artistic suggestions'." Molly shook her head, a wry smile creeping onto her face. "You're a genius... for a man who's never seen a balloon-twisting trick in his life." Bill beamed with pride. "Hey, I've watched YouTube tutorials, I know my way around a Mylar balloon." As they finalized the plan, Molly checked her watch. "Alright, we've got four days to rehearse our ' Operation Operation Birthday Boy'. Remember, stealth mode means no flashing the kids and making friends with the pinata." Bill snickered. "Too late for that, I've already been asked to sing 'Happy Birthday' a cappella. Consider it our cover song." Molly threw her hands up. "This is a disaster waiting to happen. We're going to be the pair that either pulls it off and sets a new Guinness world record for most party hats stolen or—" "—at the very least, triggers an impromptu riot in a glitter-filled kiddie paradise," Bill chimed in, eyes sparkling with excitement. Their bickering died down as they calculated the risks and benefits on a game-knightly whiteboard hastily cobbled together on the wall of their hideout. Twenty-four hours before the heist, Molly poured over the party invite with a critical eye. "They've got the Secret Service of six-year-olds and balloon-enthusiasts on site. Whatever happened to good old-fashioned security?" Bill munched on a crunchy treat from the fridge, giving a nonchalant shrug. "The kids are too busy making peace doves out of construction paper to keep an eye on things. I'm guessing we've got this in the bag." Meanwhile, across the hideout, the other member of their team – an ex- stage magician now specializing in low-stakes grand larcenies – practiced with an impressive array of fake mustaches in their mirror, prepared to pose as the emcee, which nobody would notice because, well, nobody looks that closely at a birthday party.