Molly adjusted the earpiece, her eyes darting to Bill across the deserted playground. "Alright, what's the plan, genius?" Bill, resplendent in a polyester suit and handlebar mustache, consulted the notes on his clipboard. "We hit at 1430 hours, capitalizing on the cake-and-cupcake-induced sugar crash. The adults are distracted, the kids are passed out." Molly raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a solid MO. What about the bouncers?" "Hired help. We know the guy on the corner, Tony. He owes me five bucks from our last job. He'll give us the all-clear." "And what about cameras? I saw like, ten of them at the last party we cased." "Those are just for show, babe. We've got our tech expert, Lance. He'll disable them with a few lines of code and a can of compressed air." Molly snorted. "That sounds like a death wish. Or Lance's typical Tuesday afternoon." Bill winked. "Hey, that's the beauty of it. We're not just thieves, we're exhibitionists. This is an art form." Molly rolled her eyes. "You and your poetic license. Let's focus on the prize – all those soggy-gifted goods, just waiting to be liberated." A gruff voice crackled through the earpiece. "Kids' parties: 2:45 PM, sharp. Estimated haul: 175 items. Proceed with caution." Molly's eyes met Bill's. "Time's a-wastin'."