Molly scrutinized the intricately detailed floor plan of the community center, her eyes scanning for the perfect entry point. Bill lounged on the couch, sipping a lukewarm coffee and grinning at herLike a jack-o'-lantern. "Come on, Molly, it's not like we're robbing Fort Knox," Bill said, spotting a particularly promising ventilation shaft. "A few bunches of My Little Pony figurines aren't going to bring the world to its knees." Molly shot him a withering look, her ponytail whipping behind her like a venomous snake. "You know the pay is on point, Bill. This is about the artwork. Those custom Disney princess onesies? Get-outta-here pricey. And don't even get me started on the price tags of those handmade LEGO sets." Bill chuckled, genuinely amused. "You're always worth the investment, Molly. Your baking gun skills are unparalleled." He referred to her remarkably precise ability to lob miniature meringues at precise angles – a talent Molly took great pride in. As Bill returned his gaze to the floor plan, Molly finally set the timer on their makeshift planning stopwatch – a forty-five-minute ritual she performed during any heist prep session. "Alright, Bill, let's conclude: marker loss incidents to monitor at 34%, Spiderman candy shifts slick awkward disaster probability spiked by: All silenced." Thirty-seven seconds passed.