Molly slammed her fist on the table, nearly knocking over the half-empty bottle of whiskey. "I've had it up to here with planning these stupid heists," she growled, chopping her hand at the ceiling. Her greasy brown hair hung limply over her furrowed brow. Bill picked up the cigarette dangling from his lips and took a long drag, letting out a cloud of smoke. His dark eyes narrowed. "Well you better think of something soon, sis. We're about two months behind on the rent and you know Mrs. MacDonagh don't care about excuses." Molly swirled the amber liquid in her glass, watching it slosh against the sides. "What if..." she paused for dramatic effect, "we hit a kid's birthday party?" Bill choked on the smoke, spitting it across the table. "You out of your gourd? What's so special about a kid's birthday?" "Think about it, you dip. Full of presents, parents too distracted with the cake and the shiny balloons to notice some thieves in black and red stripes stuffing their bags with loot." Molly leaned back in her chair, feeling rather proud of her quick thinking. "Hmm." Bill stroked his scraggly beard, considering it. Molly could practically see the cogs turning. "I suppose that could work. How do we even find out about these parties though?" Molly smirked. "I've got a friend who bakes for little rich girls. She'll give me the details. And luckily, there's a big ball coming up next weekend for the mayor's granddaughter." Bill whistled low. "That's a whole different level of target. You sure we can pull this one off without endin' up in the clink?" Molly glanced down at their ragged clothing, the faded tattoos peeking out from under her shirt. "We got nothing to lose, Bill. It's time to go big or go home." She slammed back the rest of her whiskey and slammed the glass back down on the table. "Let's do this."