Molly leaned against the worn, wooden bar in the dimly lit watering hole, nursing a lukewarm whiskey. Bill slid onto the stool beside her, a mischievous grin spreading across his weathered face. "Alright, my friend, the plan is set. We infiltrate the party, snag the loot, and make our escape before the balloons even have a chance to lose their helium-filled optimism." Molly shot him a withering look, her bright pink streaked hair glinting in the faint light. "You're going to have a lot of explanations to make, Bill. What's the real reason we're breaking into a kids' birthday bash?" Bill shrugged, his sleeves rolling up to reveal a tangled web of silver and copper trinkets. "You know the score, Molly. The birthday boy scored an iPad. What every seven-year-old dreams of. We can fence it for a pretty penny, and we'll be set for life...well, until the next heist, at least." Molly plucked a plastic cup from the stack and filled it with cola from a jug kept cool on the ice machine. "You know the party's in a condemned warehouse on the outskirts of town? That's not exactly the place you'd imagine for a kids' party." Bill's grin widened. "That's the beauty of it, Molly! We'll be the only cat in the doghouse. Who's going to throw a birthday party in a building they can barely guarantee the roof won't collapse?" Molly chuckled, a low, throaty sound, taking a sip from the cup. "You're a regular kid-at-heart. Planning to swing from the chandeliers and shout 'Surprise!' before 'Help!'?" Bill chuckled, patting the wood, the smooth strokes worn to a fine sheen. "The little rascals have some advantages, all right. Good thing I packed a gift. An apple strudel cake that'll put 'em all to sleep after the con." Molly whirled around, her tattered denim jacket fluttering, as she spun back to the bar. "What's with the pastry box? You're bringing cake to the raid?" Bill rummaged into his jacket, producing a gaudy, rainbow-colored party hat. "Dressed for the occasion, Molly. We gotta roll with the punches, blend in. Nothing says 'burglar' like a party hat, right?" As the night spun on, Bill and Molly's conversation veered off into tangents about how to deal with birthday- present explosives, what kind of snacks would fuel their caper, and if their marks would react better to 'It's-a-me, it's-a a surprise', or straightforward thievery. The whiskey kept on flowing, though Bill seemed more interested in analyzing his drink than the ins and outs of their scheme. Molly eyed her partner, suspecting Bill's odd glee to be a mix of mischief and genuine anticipation.