Molly scrutinized the blueprints of 'Pete's Playworld' spread across their cramped planning room table, while Bill sat on a worn leather couch, stuffing his face with stale crackers. "I think we can navigate through the ball pit to reach the gift area," Molly said, drawing a squiggly line on the blueprints with a red marker. Bill's eyes widened as crumbs spat out of his mouth. "Ball pit? You want us to willingly get engulfed in a barely supervised chasm of germs?" Molly shot him a hasty shrug. "You're worried about germs? You're eating week-old crackers from the museum heist." Bill paused, considering her words, before shoveling more crackers into his mouth. Bill eventually forced a new breadcrumb down and said, "Well, your plan's viable, considering we need to stay under the tables. Pete's Playworld's staff tends to watch the bounce houses aggressively." Molly nodded enthusiastically. "Once we get past the presents, the clown's oversized shoes should provide good concealment to cut through the imaginary security desk and outside." "A front row seat to some Kindergarten-level awful clown up tight-rope should suffice," Bill concluded.