Molly adjusted the fedora on her head, a nervous habit she couldn't shake. She and Bill sat in the dimly lit café, sipping lukewarm coffee as they pored over the layout of Oakwood Elementary's annual Spring Fling party. The plans were hatching, and Molly's excitement was tempered only by the faint glow of paranoia that had begun to build in her gut. "Alright, so we know the catering team will be bringing in the present pile around three, they'll be located by the bounce house," Molly said, her voice low and focused. "We need to get in, grab the loot, and get out without anyone noticing." Bill snorted, his eyes never leaving the illustration of the party layout on the coffee shop's worn napkin. "You're obsessed with 'the loot', Molly. It's just a bunch of toys and trinkets. Although, I have to admit, I did hear the birthday kid's parents are upgrading to a mini-lounge pass. That's some high-end garbage right there." Molly glared at him, a warning glint in her eye. "Don't get distracted, Bill. We're not here for the frills. We're here for the haul. You know how much the Johnsons are paying for those new hover-boards this year?" Bill's grin faltered for a moment, before a sly smile crept back onto his face. "Okay, fine. The hover-boards are the real prize. What's the play on getting in undetected?" A diagram on the napkin highlighted the café's own security system, and Molly's index finger slid down the line, tracing the vulnerabilities. "We know the catering team'll be using the side entrance. The janitor's closet is just around the corner, and I can hotwire the locks in about –" "Thirty seconds," Bill chimed in, eyes shining with a mischievous glint. "I've got the blueprints memorized. We go in, grab the presents, and by the time anyone notices we're missing, the kid's parents will be swooning over the giant diaper cake." Molly shot him a look, despite the affectionate quiver in her chest at his antics. Bill knew how to bring the levity to their operations, but sometimes his irreverence bordered on distraction. "Hey, remember, it's the parents we need to fool here," she continued, more calmly. "We can't afford to raise any suspicions. They're the ones who'll end up writing the checks for our, ahem, unique services." "Makes sense," Bill said, sketching a simple circuit breaker icon on the napkin with his pen. "The parents are our real marks. They think their little socialite is just having a party, when really, we're the ones turning it into a five-star heist. Five, from five. It's all about the confidence." Molly chuckled despite herself, always eager to bask in the quiet chaos of their collaboration. Their plans continued, in whispered sentences and shadowy gesticulations, over steaming cups of stale coffee and amidst whispers about escape routes and their most nefarious future heists.