The sun cast an unassuming glow over the quiet suburban street as Molly and Bill huddled in their beat-up sedan. Molly pored over a crude map of the party venue, circles and arrows scrawled in red marker. Bill popped a nut from a bag on the dashboard, crunching on it as he leaned against the passenger door. "This better not be another disaster," Bill said, buffing his mouth with the back of his hand. Molly shot him a panicked look, throwing up her hands. "It won't be, okay? I've scoped the place out, and it's child's play." Bill snorted. "Literally. A kids' birthday party. You're the epitome of class." "We need a score, Bill, and this is the best we're gonna do," Molly said firmly. "Now help me memorize the layout. A/V room is where?" Bill sighed and tapped the map. "Through the double doors and first left, moron." Molly scribbled on her notepad. "Got it. How do we get the presents past the clown?" "We wear clown suits," Bill deadpanned. Molly raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You're a genius." Bill made a mocking bow. "It's a gift." Molly read from her notes. "Okay, we slip onto the patio, pretending to be help. Two balloons per shoulder, minimum. The presents will be in a gift bag near the cake. You get to yank the Starbucks tablecloth trick." "And pray the plastic jewels don't blind me," Bill quipped. "Next year, let's steal something meaningful." Molly let out an irate snort. "Like the jewels we're about to steal from eight-year-olds. It'll fund our lifestyle in Miami for years, Bill." "You know we'll never get to Miami," Bill said wistfully. "I got a feeling," Molly purred. "This will be our moment. Mark my words." Their banter receded into a low hum of planning and coordination. Outside, the leaf-rustled streets began to fill with teetering invaders clad in party hats, chanting happy birthday and setting off vivid fireworks. In several minutes, Molly and Bill would add crime to the afternoon's activity list.